Suddenly I See
by s0ulm8
Summary: The previous adventures of House and Chloe. Her life is in danger, can House convince her to save herself? Can she convince him that life doesn't always suck?
1. Chapter 1

**1**

"I thought this was your day off!" Cynthia looked up in surprise to see Chloe Marzhal standing on the other side of the nurses' station desk.

Cynthia Genovese was the day charge nurse of 3 South, a general medical/surgical overflow floor that was always ferociously busy.

"Days off were evidently created for useless meetings with equally useless administrators" remarked Chloe, sourly, "I just spent 90 minutes arguing with a brick wall. Just what I like to do on my day off."

Dr. James Wilson was watching this interchange as he was joined by the ducklings (Drs. Foreman, Cameron and Chase).

Chase piped up, "Why are we here?"

Cameron seconded, "We were paged for what?"

Wilson chuckled and replied, "Watch and learn, young ones, watch and learn."

They could hear him thumping his way down the hall before they ever saw him. Actually, Chloe could always detect his scent first, though she'd never admit it. "Cynthia, God may love me, but Jesus hates me today, doesn't he?"

"Spouting more Christian propaganda there, Clover?" Dr. Greg House delighted in mispronouncing her name. It reminded him so much of 'Bewitched'.

"Well, Gregory, someone has to save your soul, what with you dissipating yourself with God knows who, contracting God knows what. Someday you'll see the light." Chloe never looked at him, concentrating on a file she had in her hand.

"Hey, I practice safe sex, I'm just out of condoms at the moment." House rounded the corner of the nurses' station to pull a chart from the rack.

"Oh! Is that all?" she paused, looking at Cynthia slyly. "Cynthia, honey, rummage around in that bottom drawer and pull out that red and white box, I think I hid it way in the back."

Cynthia gave her a funny look, "This one?"

"That's the one!" Chloe smiled, wrapping her hand around the box to hide the label.

Slapping the box on the counter, she looked up at House, "Knowing what a 'frugal' soul you are, I kept this in reserve, just for you. Go ye forth and conquer – you heathen!"

She turned and walked away. House looked at the back of her… head… quizzically, then down at the box. One hundred brand new finger cots.

Knowing he'd been had again, he rolled his eyes and looked up just in time to see Chloe wet her index finger and trace the number 1 in the air.

Wilson was the only one allowed to laugh out loud. House growled in the general direction of the ducklings as they suppressed their glee.

Cynthia walked over to the white board that hung just outside the nurse's lounge. The white board in this case, was entitled House vs house and chronicled the zingers House and Chloe threw at each other. Chloe always seemed to be one point ahead. Cynthia wrote one more slash mark in Chloe's column.

Just as she reached the door to the storage room, Chloe's hand shot out to grab the jam. She stopped dead in her tracks. Wilson was still laughing when he saw her clipboard and file clatter to the tile floor. Her left hand reached for her throat. Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged.

'I haven't had an asthma attack in decades,' Chloe was thinking. She couldn't catch her breath. Suddenly flushed, hot, but cold and clammy at the same time, she tried to call out for help, but her vocal chords failed her.

It was House's turn to notice when Chloe went down on her knees. Cameron was the first to reach her, everyone else not sure if it was an act. "Chloe, are you alright?" Chloe's eyes were wide, then suddenly they went dull and she pitched forward into the floor. Her eyes were half-opened. She wasn't breathing.

Cameron yelled, "Call a code, she's not breathing!" Chase and Foreman helped turn Chloe over to open her airway and assess her pulse.

"No pulse, start CPR," said Foreman. By then, the crash cart had been rolled over and the staff fell into their ACLS roles. Although initially in ventricular fibrillation, one jolt from the defibrillator was all it took to bring her back to a regular rhythm. Her breathing returned to normal, but she was still unconscious.

**2**

Fifteen minutes later, she was wheeled into the cardiac catheterization lab, which had been her 'home' for several years. Dr. Stanley Irwin, the head of the Cardiology department stepped in when he heard Chloe was in need of his services and at six foot five and 325 pounds (a former Golden Gloves Champion and now a boxing coach), he was the only doctor in the hospital with the moxie to make House wait on the sidelines while he performed the catheterization. He found the offending occlusion, performed a PTCA and stented the right coronary artery. Even House thought he was watching poetry in motion.

Chloe's eyes fluttered open. She was peering into the eyes of her favorite doctor. "Dr. Stan, what are you doing here?" She looked around. "And where is here?"

"Chloe, dear, you've had an MI. It's alright for now, but you and I have some talking to do." Irwin gave instructions to have Chloe admitted under his care and wrote a page of orders for the nurses to follow once she got to the floor.

After Chloe was wheeled out of the cath lab, House limped over to Irwin and congratulated him on a quick job well done. "Well, thank you, House, I'm glad she was here in the hospital instead of at home or out in public somewhere, she might not have made it."

"How can I help?"

Irwin was puzzled for a moment, House offering assistance? "Actually, House, you can help. Chloe is a willful woman and will need 'incentive' so to speak. Did you know that she is the poster child for the average American registered nurse? Middle aged, overweight, performing a thanklessly stressful job and taking care of everyone but herself. She's got to get rid of that weight that's been accumulating over the years, otherwise this may not be her last MI. Let me buy you lunch and we'll talk."

The cafeteria crowd was abuzz when they saw the two most unlikely men actually enjoying an amicable meal together. Irwin was renowned for his charming, sensitive bedside manner and kind treatment of nurses. House was… well… House. What else can be said?

**3**

Two weeks later, Chloe was back at work. However, at the insistence of Dr. Irwin, she was placed on light duty, which meant day shift and her hated enemy… paperwork. 'God why didn't you just take me?' She muttered to herself at least once an hour. She hated auditing charts, rifling through personnel files, filling out performance reviews. It was so much Mickey Mouse in her mind.

House ambled up to the third floor for no particular reason except to perform mischief, for which he lived. "So Crystal, how's it hangin'?

Chloe sighed and replied, "Well, Gregory, since I have nothing to 'hang', I'd have to say 'it's not'. You have no patients up here, so what do you want?"

"Ah! Another case of penis envy, Freud was right after all!" House dimpled at her. "I came up here to inquire after your love life, actually."

This threw Chloe off completely. "What the… what could you possibly care about my personal life?"

"I'm worried about you. You know, the merry little matchmaker, me" He was actually smiling at her which was discomfiting all by itself. "My cousin Ralph is coming into town. You'd like him, he's a lot like me, except not as tall, or smart… or handsome."

"Thank you for your kind consideration, but I do not need your help finding a… partner… of any kind! Now go away!" Chloe was flushed and totally uneasy discussing her private life.

She stood to walk away from the nurse's station when House fired the first volley. "Well, Clucks, you're not getting any younger you know and quite frankly, I'm not sure what kind of market there is these days for… well, let's say… voluptuous older women just now."

'I will not kill him in public, I will not kill him in public, I will not kill him in public.' Chloe slowly turned and walked back to House, who was now perched on the desk, spinning his cane. "If you're suggesting that my age and weight are a hindrance to my finding love or more likely, since it's you speaking, sex, you are more of a misogynist chauvinist pig than anyone ever thought! How dare you imply that I am unattractive!"

"Well, then, who are you dating at the moment?" He asked ever so innocently.

Chloe never wanted to slap another human being so badly in her life. However, even though she was a natural loner and despised the thought of cleaning up after someone else, it was true she hadn't had a date in a couple of years. She hadn't really thought about it until now.

House leaned closer to her. "Well?"

"What's this really about, Gregory?" Chloe asked, not wanting to answer his question at all.

House walked over to the white board and was about to chalk one up to himself, when he stated matter-of-factly, "I'm betting you'd have to lose 100 pounds before you were even asked out on a date." Now that was just cruel, and he knew it. The other nurses present gasped in horror.

Chloe blushed crimson, not in embarrassment, but in sheer rage. She stormed over to him and grabbed the dry marker out of his hand. "I'll take your bet you sexist bastard," she hissed, "and you'll regret it!"

"Hey!" retorted House, "If you're serious, there have to be guidelines. None of this purging/puking stuff, no diet pills and no liposuction!" This time she did slap him… hard. He rubbed his cheek and added, "I'll give you a year… two pounds a week, that's nice and healthy. If I win, you take down this damned white board forever."

Chloe pounced. "And if I win?" House shrugged, "Name it."

"I will! Now get your skinny ass off my floor!" She stormed off into her office. House smiled, put a slash mark on his side of the board and, winking at the other nurses, left the floor.

Chloe slumped into the chair at the desk she shared with Cynthia. She wanted to cry, but refused to do so. The humiliating thing about it was that he was right. Damn his eyes! She had let herself go. But he had hit on the precise amount of weight she had to lose to fit the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company's current height/weight ratio. She was 5'5½" tall and should weigh between 130-135 lbs (that's reality pounds, not Hollywood pounds). She was 232 lbs as of today. Normally, she didn't care what she looked like. Her fashion sense was non-existent. She could never understand why women spent so much time in front of mirrors! Suddenly, she felt like a beached whale. Crap! Seventeen years old again and pizza-faced. Crap!

As for her age, he'd hit a nerve and a raw one. She knew that statistically she'd have a better chance of getting hit by a bus than getting a date at her age, never mind her weight. For the rest of the day, Chloe was on the warpath. Everyone stayed as far out of her way as they could get. When she was like this, it was better to just disappear.

It wasn't until the drive home that it dawned on her what that manipulative SOB had done. 'Dr. Stan… you sneaky little so-and-so! You picked the one person from whom I wouldn't back down. Crazy like a fox, you are. Well, hell, I guess I have some work to do. Uggggh.'

Once home, she rifled through her old VHS tapes and found the Cynthia Kereluk workout video that was her favorite, back when exercising was actually fun. 'No pain, no gain' was an idiot's mantra and she hated bouncy bleached-blonde bimbos in barely-there thongs showing her how impossible it was to look like them. Kereluk was down-to-earth, easy on the eyes and never made fun of her. Chloe started slowly, but, by God, she started.

And she plotted her revenge.

**4**

Chase, Foreman and Cameron were all seated at the table studying a file when House came in whistling some obscure tune from some even more obscure operetta.

"Starting without me? I'm crushed!" He feigned a perfect Stan Laurel pout.

"We have a new patient," began Chase. "This guy's palate is being eaten alive, but the swabs are all negative. His uvula is gone and he's in absolute misery."

Cameron handed House two polaroids of the inside of a very unfortunate person's mouth.

"Yuk! What's his VDRL result?" he asked.

The three of them looked up at him as though they'd just been smacked. Cameron said, "Syphilis?"

Chase just stared at House.

"Syphilis papulosa mucosae oris?" Foreman exclaimed, mortified.

"Gesundheit! Just because nobody's seen a case of tertiary syphilis in, oh say, fifty years, doesn't mean it doesn't still exist! Get a VDRL and when it comes back positive, get the guy some treatment, and his wife, too… and get rid of those photos! Jeez!" Making a horrified face, House tossed the polaroids on the table and turned to enter his office, then thought better of it. "Next time don't accept a case without consulting papa… 'kay?" Chagrined, the three left the room.

House wandered over to Wilson's office.

"How'd she take it?" Wilson asked without even looking up from his desk.

"Like a man, what'd you expect?" House retorted.

"I expected her to slap you silly and break your other leg, but, alas, I see you're still standing."

House grimaced and sat in the comfy 'bad news' chair. "She took the bait, hook, line and lead sinker. Oh, and because you care, she _did_ slap me. She's got a mean right." He rubbed his jaw again and scowled.

Wilson laughed. "Think she's figured it out already?"

House searched the ceiling, in hopes of finding intelligent life, "Of course, but she won't back down, it's a matter of principal now. No way is she gonna let me win this one."

Wilson went back to the paperwork on his desk, "Well then, this should be an interesting year. Oh, yeah, and because I _do_ care, I still have that Hair Club For Men business card a member gave me last year, let me know if you ever want it." To Wilson's delight, that got House out of his office rather quickly. He pulled open his bottom desk drawer and retrieved the sandwich he'd been hiding.

**5**

Down in the clinic, no matter how hard he tried, House couldn't seem to avoid patients. He didn't know that the Dean of Medicine, Dr. Lisa Cuddy had sent out the word that under no circumstances were the nurses to acknowledge the unspoken 'Do Not Disturb' sign House posted whenever he was there. The only way the nurses could think of to actually do that was to herd every 'female' malady in his direction. That way, he always had to have a nurse handy. It took him awhile to figure this out, surprisingly. Well, not all that long, as he imagined something was up at about the seventh case of crotch rot. He only had forty-five minutes to go.

"I don't want to see another female patient, Brenda, got it? There's only so many pelvic exams a guy can take, you know. Almost as good as a cold shower."

Brenda replied, "Yezza massa," and handed him a file. Thank God, it was a male.

A male with crotch rot.

Brenda had somehow mysteriously disappeared.

"OK, what's your story," House began. Sore throat was the patient's stated complaint. However, House had a hard time keeping his eyes in his head as he gazed at the worst case of venereal warts he had ever seen. And he'd seen plenty! He quickly donned a pair of gloves. "Please tell me you're not having sex with that thing!"

The patient replied, rather proudly, "Hey, the chicks dig the texture, man! 'Specially the younger ones."

House's face contorted to reflect the headache that was creeping up the back of his neck. He popped a Vicodin and laid into the patient. "What you have there, pal, is not 'texture', it's WARTS! Warts are caused by viruses and every time you use that thing unprotected, you're spreading the genital human papillomavirus. Do you know you can actually be arrested for that?"

The young man looked at him like he'd grown a third ear. "Man, you get warts on you hands, not your Johnson! That's just crazy!"

House was dismayed to read that this kid was a college student, right here at Princeton. "Different HP virus, moron! The kind you have can lead to cancer in you and/or your partner(s). Have you ever seen cancer of the penis? It ain't pretty!"

This seemed to get his attention. "How do I get rid of them?" he asked, quietly.

House sighed. "We can get rid of the warts with medication, but we can't get rid of the virus. There are only about 100 types of HPV, your immune system may very well get rid of the one you have within a year or two, or it may hang around dormant forever. You'll always have to be careful where and how you use your equipment. I'm going to test you for other STIs just in case, seeing as how you did come in with a sore throat… God knows what's growing in there!" House scribbled onto his prescription pad, then stepped out of the room for a moment, returning with a booklet which, hopefully, would educate this guy. "Read this, there will be a quiz! Once the warts are gone, if they ever return, get to a doctor quick, got it? I wanna see you again in two weeks. In the meantime, keep yourself to yourself."

The totally deflated young man nodded and after having blood drawn and various orifices swabbed, numbly left the clinic, heading for the pharmacy, script in hand.

With that lovely image seared in his memory, House signed out of the clinic. Why was he a doctor? He hated people.

**6**

Remorse? What an odd sensation. Couldn't be remorse. He did what he did for a reason. It was logically thought out and flawlessly executed. And, it had worked. Why, then, did he feel so rotten? He'd done things like this to other people in his life, for ostensibly the same reasons, namely their own good. People never knew what they really wanted, anyway. He still felt like a bum. His leg was really throbbing by the time he got home. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number.

"No, not tonight."

"You heard me."

"You have what I want or not?"

"Not necessarily, but she's got to have spunk. And preferably a mute, or a reasonable facsimile thereof."

"Fine, fine, an hour."

He hung up and pondered. He had been really cruel to Chloe, just about as cruel as when he lambasted Cuddy about being a lousy mother. Of course, he was strung out that time, but that's no excuse, not for him. He cogitated on whether he would date Chloe. Just the way she was. Was it so awful? She was, in fact, a very good person. She gave as good as she got and never backed down from him. Never lied to him. Always looked him straight in the eye. She had guts. She had never been afraid of him. Why not? All the other nurses were. He'd caught her from time to time being all emotional and girlie… sadness, happiness, joy, even playfulness at times. She really liked music, too, although she couldn't read a note and didn't know the difference between a major chord and a minor one. But, would he go out with her? Was her age and her weight that big a deal? Forget his near phobic abhorrence of emotional connections, would he date her?

There was a soft knock at the door. "It's open!" He stayed put on the couch and popped a Vicodin, chasing it with a swig of scotch. She entered the room and locked the door behind her. And there she was. As close to a Chloe imitation as he could get. Same height, same weight. Nearly the same age. Pretty face, nice eyes. He flicked his hand in the air in a 'take off your clothes' gesture. Silently, she complied. He studied her until she began to fidget a bit. He blinked twice, then motioned for her to proceed to the bedroom. He studied her as he followed. She made herself comfortable on the bed and he sat on the edge, studying. There was something Reubenesque about her. Cripes, couldn't he come up with something more articulate than that old saw? He was surprised to find that she was not at all repulsive. She never took her eyes off his face. He ran his long, delicate fingers across her body, outlining her shape. He wanted to kiss her, but they never let him do that. Instead, he gently tilted her head away from him and brushed his lips across her throat. She let out a low mewl, then remembered herself. It was that nearly imperceptible sound that did it. It was all he needed to catapult himself into this crazy fantasy.

Soft. So soft.

In the last several years, he'd become accustomed to bony angles, bodies that look great in any clothing, hell, even in feed sacks, but when naked were like lying on a pile of wire hangers. This was so different. It was as if he were caressing a full-length body pillow, covered in silk. He closed his eyes and allowed her to consume him. She knew her business, but he wasn't about to let this end any too quickly. He'd decided he wanted to savor it.

And savor it he did. Fully.

She left as quietly as she had arrived.

Now he really felt like the ass everyone said he was. He ached to call Chloe and beg her to let him come to her. She wouldn't let him anywhere near her now.

He'd finally studied himself to a conclusion. He was an idiot. Men are pigs.

**7**

"I think it's totally degrading!" shouted Cameron. "It's nothing more than the same old double standard, we've come so far, and yet we're still in the bedroom and in the kitchen! How can she let him do this to her?"

Cuddy sighed, realizing she wasn't going to get any work done until she calmed Cameron down. "You're preaching to the choir, my friend. However, have you thought that perhaps Chloe has a plan of her own? She can be just as devious as Dr. Feelbad, you know. Those two have been going hammer and tongs since the day he entered the place. Maybe, just maybe, this is the incentive she needed to do what she knew needed doing with the added bonus of shoving it back down his throat! I, for one, am going to watch this play itself out, and my money is on Chloe."

"Maybe you're right, I just think it's disgusting" muttered Cameron.

"And anyway, why are you yelling at me?" Cuddy interjected, "Have you spoken to Chloe yet?" Finally, she'd hit on the thing that would get Cameron out of her office.

"You're right!" replied Cameron, "That's exactly what I'll do." She spun on her heel and headed out the door, just as House was entering.

"Ass!" she hissed.

"Baby!" he hissed back.

"Why am I an ass today?" He inquired.

"God, I get rid of one obnoxious teenager and another one shows up." Cuddy rolled her eyes back in her head and resumed her place behind her desk, feeling the migraine descend. "House, what the hell do you want and how much is it going to cost me?"

"I just came to gaze at the alabaster loveliness of the twins. They paged me. Guess they were lonely."

Cuddy closed her eyes and pointed at the door. "House, get out!"

Assuming a comfortable position on Cuddy's office couch he sulked, "I'm just trying to be helpful!"

She opened her eyes. He was still there. "House, what do you want?!?"

"I just wanted you to know that the Chloe thing was Irwin's idea, not mine. Not that I wouldn't have come up with on my own, mind you. I'm just being the bad boy in this drama trauma."

"That's it? Well, I'm glad to see you're not running with scissors as well as playing well with your peers. Now get out of my office, I've wasted enough time today on soap operas!"

He hopped up and exclaimed, "Oh, that reminds me!" and in a flash, he was gone. Cripple or no, he could move his bum when it suited him.

"Who invented this damned 'open door' policy crap?" Cuddy lamented.

**8**

Six weeks had passed. Chloe was back on the night shift, where, thankfully, she never had to lay eyes on House. And, she'd lost 15 pounds. Ahead of the curve. Good.

Dr. Cameron had been a pain in her rear end nearly the whole time, though. OK, sweetheart, I get it! But this is war! Move on… eat a hamburger!

The white board had been erased and what replaced the slash marks were numbers. Her weight on one side, and smaller numbers on House's side which she wouldn't explain. Yet. But they kept adding up as her weight went down.

It was three a.m. and the nurses were catching up on their charting when she caught the whiff of whatever it is he wears. For the love of God, it's three in the morning, why isn't he at home hung over? When the other nurses heard the thump of his cane, they scattered to the winds.

She didn't even let him open his mouth. "This is how it works, Gregory. I've divided the year into four 13-week segments. At the end of each segment, if I've reached the goal, you owe me twelve hours."

"Twelve hours of what?" He asked, not quite sure he wanted to know.

"Of whatever I want." She paused for affect, "that means at the end of the year, you'll be owing me forty-eight hours of your precious time. Make plans accordingly. I will not be denied." She resumed her charting.

"Forty-eight straight hours? I'm good, Chloe, but nobody's that good!" House was almost wailing.

Without looking up she responded, "You're an idiot. I'll break it up anyway I want, you just make sure you're available."

He could only envision another disastrous 'Camerondate' and really didn't want to go there. "Chloe…"

"Backing out so soon? The Mighty Quinn falls without so much as a whimper? You disappoint me, Gregory. And you're still an unimaginative dolt."

Well, that did it. "The Mighty Quinn does not refer to Vicodin, it…"

Chloe stood up and shouted without raising her voice. "I know damn good and well what it refers to, Gregory, I vaguely remember high school and college! Now, unless you're here to see a patient at this God-awful hour, I have work to do… and weight to lose." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

He stood there, dumbfounded. He'd never lost a bet in his life. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He'd bet himself that Stacy wouldn't do anything stupid while he was in a coma. He lost that one. Hopefully, this time, he wouldn't walk away missing another body part.

**9**

"What I want to know is why is she the only one around here, or anywhere for that matter that I know of, who calls him 'Gregory' and gets away with it." Cameron seemed truly perplexed. She had been monitoring this weird relationship between her boss and this nurse and had been asking a lot of questions. She wouldn't admit she was ever so slightly jealous. What did she have that Cameron didn't? What did she have to change to get his attention? Poor Cameron just didn't get it.

Chase yawned, "His mother calls him Gregory."

"Exactly!" She slapped her hand on the table. "Why would any woman want to imitate a man's mother?"

Foreman was surprised at the vitriol. "What do you care?" He asked her point blank. "At least with this distraction, he's not on our cases 24/7. I'll take anything I can get and be thankful."

"She calls me Gregory for the same reason I mispronounce her name, which, by the way Cameron, is Chloe." The three jumped at the sound of his voice floating out of the darkness of his office. "Sometimes annoying people is a perfectly acceptable end in itself." Chase nearly fell backwards, chair and all. "Of course, she only calls me that when we're vertical."

House smirked at Chase, "See? That was fun."

Chase straightened his tie and tried to regain his dignity.

Cameron was pondering the 'vertical' remark.

House hobbled out of his office and headed for the coffee, tossing a file on the table as he passed. He had gotten used to Cameron serving him his coffee, he did miss that. Ah, well, shit happens. Foreman grabbed for the chart, happy for anything to talk about besides his boss's extra-curricular assignations.

"Twenty-five year old white female admitted with altered mental status and dehydration. Has a history of seizures, but is 'allergic' to all but one anticonvulsant. EEG is normal." House stirred his coffee and waited.

Foreman jumped first. "So what's so special about this?"

"What's causing the seizures?" asked Cameron.

"Has anyone seen these seizures?" queried Chase.

"Bingo! Go ye forth and… and find out." That didn't come out quite as cool as it should have.

"Wait a minute!" Foreman flipped through the file. "Nothing's been done but the EEG? We're picking up a case from scratch? What the…"

"I got really bored and you three obviously need something to occupy your minds… skedaddle!"

Foreman shook his head and hauled himself out of his chair. Out of earshot, he said, "If I live to be a hundred, hell, if I live through this fellowship, I will never understand that man. We're on a fool's errand!"

Chase shrugged.

Cameron was still stuck on the 'vertical' remark.

"Well, at least it's neurological. I can do neurological."

**10**

Channeling his inner Vulcan was hard work. He kept running into these pesky things called people. People always seemed to need things he didn't have or want things he couldn't provide. This was not logical. Take his dad, for example. His dad wanted him to be a killer. Why, in God's name? His mother wanted him to love his father. Fat chance. Stacy wanted his soul. He couldn't let go of that. Cameron wants his heart. He doesn't have one. Cuddy wants his nuts. For target practice, he supposed. Well, she couldn't have them. And now Chloe. Chloe wants time. Time. For some reason, that made him really nervous. What did she want to do with that time? Change him? Mold him into something more loveable? Good God, she knew better than that. Bring some humanity into his life? Stronger men and some women had tried and failed. Maybe she wants to get into my head. Nobody gets into my head.

"I'm already there."

He woke with a start. He had heard her voice just as clearly as if she were… ack! She was! She was… is… standing right there. Surreal was not the word. But, then again, maybe it was.

"What are you on?" She looked at him as though he'd finally slipped the last tooth in the gear. "You're in the clinic, and I'm here for my weigh-in. Thought you'd like to be in on it."

He recovered, just. It had been six months. She was right on schedule. Dammit. "I think it's finally time I did some new scrub shopping, these things are getting a bit baggy. Seeya Suckah!"

She left the clinic and could barely suppress her amusement until she got into her car. Poor Gregory. Does he know he talks in his sleep? She laughed all the way home. He was so easy.

**11**

It was Thursday. Payday. One of Chloe's nights off this week. She came in to pick up her pay stub. As she was passing the clinic, Wilson practically leapt at her. "I got them!"

"No way! They were sold out months ago! Who'd you have to kill?" These were primo tickets, she couldn't believe he snagged them.

"Tomorrow night, seven?" Wilson was positively glowing.

"Oh, you are so getting lucky! Don't be late!" She found herself dancing to the elevator. House emerged from the opening door and she grabbed his free hand and twirled around under his arm and onto the elevator. Her laughter was almost contagious.

"What was that all about?" House asked an equally gleeful Wilson.

"That, my friend, was about me getting lucky tomorrow night. I, yes, I, James Wilson, managed to get two front row seats to the Josh Groban concert.

"Who?" House feigned ignorance, already trying to figure out a way to assume Wilson's place at that concert.

"Forget it. You'd be asleep in ten minutes anyway." Wilson bought a paper from the lobby vendor and found the concert advertisement. He jabbed at the ad. "That's Josh Groban. Chloe is absolutely smitten with his voice."

"Right, his voice… he could be her son!" House practically snorted.

Chloe re-emerged from the elevators and joined the two in the lobby. "Show me the tickets again!" Wilson laughed and pulled them out of his pocket.

"What is the big deal?" House was incredulous. It wasn't like it was Ramsey Lewis, for crying out loud.

"What?" Chloe shook her head at House,

"Have you never heard Jimmy's Panty Peeler speech? You could learn a few things, if you'd just pay attention, you big galoot!" Wilson blushed, wondering where she had heard that speech.

She touched his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, just don't be late!" Chloe nearly skipped out the doors and into the sunshine.

House contemplated for a moment. "Who asked who to this shindig?"

"Don't you mean, 'who asked whom?'" Wilson responded merrily.

"Whatever, whoever, whomever… did you ask her or did she ask you?" House was watching Chloe.

"Well, actually, no one asked anyone. It was sort of a mutual understanding. Whoever got the tickets took the other one with." Wilson shrugged, mystified. "Why?"

"Because, if you asked her, I just lost the bet. And she's figured it out…," he paused, "…now." He watched as she spun around in the parking lot and started back into the building.

Watching from overhead or from afar or from wherever you were perched, you would have thought it was a well-rehearsed scene from a hugely popular play. They each pointed a finger at the other and simultaneously blurted out, "Wilson doesn't count!"

Wilson, shell-shocked, looked first at one, then the other. He threw up his hands in defeat and handed each of them a prize-winning ticket. He'd given up. He walked away, wanting to get as far away from this natural-disaster-in-the-making as he could get. No amount of cajoling or apologizing would console him.

"Well, I guess we have a date, Curly."

She gave him her absolute best FUBAR face and said, "I have a ticket to a concert tomorrow night. I have no idea what your plans are and frankly, I don't care." She headed back out the doors.

"Pick you up at seven?"

"In your dreams, Gregory, in your dreams" came her terse reply.

**12**

She looked good in this fantastic shade of purple, and she knew it. Nothing fancy, this dress. No plunging neckline or thigh-exposing side-slit. Just beautiful, soft material that shimmered and flowed around her curves. She especially liked the sheer sleeves. They made her feel like a fairy princess. How silly! But she giggled anyway. Her favorite hair dresser had piled her thick, luscious waves all over her head, with tendrils draped in just the right places to show off her neck. That man was a genius.

All her accessories were silver. She loved silver. Kelly, her downstairs neighbor had helped with that part, as Chloe was admittedly fashion-challenged. The chandelier earrings were just enough, but not too much and the three graduated silver strands around her neck pulled it all together. Even her shoes were silver. The hem of her dress just brushed the instep of her foot and from her viewpoint, anyway, they looked great. The finishing touch was the sheer purple flower tucked over her right ear and the oh-so-soft shimmery silver shawl. She was quite pleased with herself.

House actually did attempt to pick up Chloe at seven. But, to no avail. She was already in the theater lobby sipping pre-concert champagne and chatting animatedly with a perfect stranger. By the time he arrived, people were beginning to assume their seats. He had seen the purple people eater three times before he realized with a shock that it was Chloe. She, for her part, had already detected and was deliberately ignoring him.

He came up just behind her right elbow. "You look good enough to nibble." He whispered in her flower-laden ear.

She took a step back and gave him a slow once over, her green eyes sparkling under the lights. "You clean up well, but you do know that the Miami Vice thing is so eighties… please tell me you're wearing socks?" His eyebrow arched upward and a sly smile crossed his face. "Of course, I'm wearing socks, what I'm not wearing is underwear."

She matched his eyebrow and his smile. "Neither am I." Thank God for two glasses of champagne. She just might make it through this ordeal. He suddenly wasn't so sure.

They found their seats and House, for once, played the perfect gentleman. She was confident that wouldn't last long. However, she did allow herself to get lost in the performance. She didn't care that he was studying her like a lab rat. It's what he does.

Chloe really did love Groban's passionate voice. He soared and thundered, whispered and wept and she was right there with every note. The more classical pieces were great, she simply adored listening to his Italian. She couldn't speak a word and it wouldn't have mattered if he were ordering shoestring potatoes, it sounded wonderful. The newer stuff was fantastic. He was stretching himself and she approved. She very nearly burst into tears when he sang 'Broken Vow' and again during 'Lullaby'. Even House got stoked when Herbie Hancock showed up for 'Machine'. What a rousing standing ovation that got! If the music didn't make you feel something, anything, it just wasn't music. That was her only musical theory and she refused to budge from it.

House watched the musicians, but mostly he watched Chloe. He wondered what it would be like if some of that passion he was observing was let loose in his direction. Would he want it? Or would it just take the fun out of things? Pesky people. What he didn't realize was that he was playing air piano on his legs for most of the evening. Admit it or not, he was enjoying himself. What an odd sensation.

Chloe did realize and it gave her one wicked idea after another. This forty-eight hours thing was pure genius, but what she was going to do with it was going to take his breath away and stop him dead in his tracks. He had this whole thing figured wrong. That was part of her secret. She had absolutely no illusions about Greg House. He was what he was, for whatever reason. It didn't matter. She couldn't understand the troupe that continually attempted to change him or even figure him out. What a waste of time. He was much more fun when you just left him alone. If you handled him just right, you could stand back and watch him twist himself into one giant pretzel all by his lonesome. You just had to know when to walk away. You could always count on him to come back for more.

After the concert, House escorted Chloe to her car. She kept spinning off with some song or other going through her head. He never wanted to waltz somebody around a parking lot so bad in his life. She was bubbling over with sincere enthusiasm. He enjoyed the show and, for once, did not feel the need to burst any balloons.

As they approached her car, he suddenly asked, "Hey, come have a drink with me."

She turned to look at him, gauging whether or not this was a joke. "I'm pretty sure I'm already illegal," she giggled again, "don't think that would be a good idea, but thanks for asking." She attempted to open the car door, but he blocked it. Placing her hand on his lapel, she said, "Greg, go home, it's about to rain. Be careful, please."

Clutching her hand, he very quickly leaned down and kissed her gently. "Why must I be careful?" He was so close. What a challenge.

"Because you could get hurt." Never blinking, she left it at that. He let her go.

Then kicked himself for the rest of the night.

You just had to know when to walk away.

You could always count on him to come back for more.

It's what he does.

**13**

"You're not going to believe this!" Chase practically skipped into the room to make his announcement to Cameron and Foreman. "I just got all the test results back. Her BUN and Creatinine are elevated, she's got proteinuria, she's thrombocytopenic, I actually witnessed her having a seizure and…" He paused to catch his breath, "she's developing a malar rash _and_ her ANA is off the charts! _It Really Is Lupus_!"

"What's her H&H?" asked Cameron.

"8.4 and 23.9" She's anemic!" Chase was nearly dizzy.

"What about her ESR?" queried Foreman.

"You know ESR isn't specific for Lupus," shot Cameron.

"No, but you know it's almost never normal in a Lupus patient, either." Foreman shot back.

"It's elevated! Everything fits!" Chase was grinning ear to ear.

House walked in, ignoring the ducklings and popped a Vicodin as he limped into his office. Chase followed him in with the good news. "So? What are you doing here, go treat her!" He threw them all out.

Foreman stayed behind for a moment. "You look like hell, are you alright?"

House was massaging the bridge of his nose right between his eyes. "I'm fine, it's just a hangover. Go away."

Foreman rolled his eyes and sighed, "Well, it doesn't take three of us to treat one patient, I'm going to the clinic for awhile. If you need anything, page me."

House waved him away. "Yeah, yeah, fine."

Alerted by Foreman, Wilson wandered into House's office and made himself comfortable. "What the hell do you want, Wonderboy? Here to lecture me on the evils of drink?"

"Nope, I'm here to find out how last night went. Did you get lucky?"

House gave him probably the most evil look he'd ever seen and Wilson had seen just about all House's evil looks. It's a damned good thing looks don't kill.

"That bad, eh? She reject you outright or did you just not pursue it?"

House made the mistake of opening the box. "Just how many kinds of idiot am I?"

"Hoo-boy, you want them alphabetically or chronologically?" Wilson was enjoying this.

"I had her right here," he held up his right forefinger and thumb together, "and I let her go. What the hell is wrong with me? You should have seen her! Not only did she look terrific, she had completely let down her guard. Yet…" he stopped for a moment.

"Yet, what?" demanded Wilson.

"Yet, she warned me off. SHE warned ME. What the hell is her game?"

"Sounds like you've met your match to me, there, Big Guy." Wilson cocked his head to one side and postulated, "Have you ever considered that Chloe isn't interested in..." He had known Chloe longer than House had, knew her history.

"Isn't interested in what?" House was slow on the pick up. His head was throbbing.

Wilson sat back down. "What if Chloe isn't interested in white picket fences, a dog and 2.3 kids? What if the 'friendship with benefits' arrangement is better suited to you and Chloe than to Cameron and Chase?"

"It certainly would be less expensive."

**14**

Dr. Stan was all aglow. "Well, young lady, you can stop your atorvastatin altogether, your cholesterol is well under 200. Your HDL is where I want it, as is your LDL. Congratulations!" He gave Chloe a big hug. It was week 50 and she'd already met her goal. She'd won the bet. She was a lot healthier, her knees quit grinding about six months ago, and she was going to let Dr. Stan break the news to House. In two weeks she was going on the first vacation she'd had in two years. The first week she was going to spend annoying the hell out of Gregory. The second week was all hers. And she was heading south. She'd never been on a cruise and she had booked a week aboard one of those Windjammer sailing ships. She planned on getting sun burnt and flirting her fool head off.

First things first. She actually had to work thirteen 12-hr nights straight. She'd had one nurse quit without notice and another out on maternity leave. It would be rough, but she'd done it before, she could do it again. She had just finished her sixth night. She'd stocked up on her supply of zolpidem and created a kick-ass sign to put on her door: "Night worker, day sleeper. Knock on this door and prepare to die." A cute picture of Mandy Patinkin brandishing a cutlass appeared beneath the words. She loved that crazy movie. Everyone knew she turned her phone off during the day, so she wasn't worried about that. So far, no one had been prepared to die. Seven sets of scrubs were left laundered and ready. Fresh sheets on the bed. She took a super hot shower, dried her hair, popped an extra sleeping pill, donned her most comfy jammies, adjusted the black-out curtains over her window and hopped into bed.

Last night had been a bear. Two codes back to back and one of the psyche patients had attempted to escape. She didn't get home until almost nine.

Thirty minutes later as she was just drifting off to sleep, there was a loud banging on her door. Somebody had better be dead or dying, or would be. She ignored the first round of knocks, hoping the bozo could read. She got out of bed on the third round and reaching into her bedside table, pulled out her 9mm and flipped off the safety. Padding to the door, she looked out the peephole and was glad she had the sidearm.

The door flung open and there before him stood a very angry woman dressed in gray patterned silk pajamas and pink fuzzy bunny slippers doing the most amazing thing: aiming a gun right at his forehead. She never said a word, waiting to hear his excuse.

"Whoa! Is that thing loaded?"

Her eyes became slits.

"OK, OK, I'm leaving now, backing up very slowly and going away."

She lowered her aim and, speaking low and slow, said "Gregory I will see you on the fourteenth and not a moment before, understand?" She flipped the safety back on.

Her eyelids flickered slightly, and he knew the zolpidem was kicking in (you thought someone else would write her a prescription for double the amount anyone else would need?) . That's when _he_ did the most amazing thing: He charged her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her hard against him, engulfing her mouth with his. While subtly disarming her, he slammed the door shut and locked it.

There's only so many ways to describe the sex act and most of the words in the thesaurus have been used up by better authors, so, suffice to say there was a lot of groping, groaning, scratching and screaming. Oh, bodice ripping and codpiece bulging, too. Harlequin would be proud.

When she awoke to her alarm that evening, the room as a mess and he was gone. She smiled.

Well, it only took him a year to figure it out.

**15**

Chloe logged in at six-thirty and went to get report from Cynthia. She made out the night's assignment, listened patiently to the daily 'whine & bitch', then made her first rounds to assess each of her six patients. She had assigned herself what was called the 'back hall'. Six private rooms at the end of the hallway, furthest away from the nurses' station. The only access to this area were the elevators on the opposite end of the hallway and the emergency exit stairwell.

She was charting her assessment on her first patient when she felt a little scruff brush across the back of her neck. Dropping the chart, she let out a squeal and spun around, arms up, hands in front of her face, clenched into tight fists. "Not bad, Coals, but you need to drop your right shoulder a little." House was grinning at her like a monkey.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" she hissed, not wanting to disturb the patients any further with wailing and gnashing of teeth.

House's expression dissolved into puzzlement. "What do you mean, what am I doing? I… I kissed the back of your neck. You like that."

Chloe shoved him into a little alcove off the hallway. "How the hell would you know what I like or don't like? What's the matter with you, accosting me like that when I'm on duty?"

"One question at a time. I know what you like because I was there. Remember?"

Her face was blank. "What the hell are you talking about? You were where?"

Okay, this was getting weird. He reached out and attempted to lift her scrub collar away from her neck.

She slapped him away. "What are you doing?!?"

This was now getting annoying. "Go in the restroom and look at your left shoulder near your neck. Go on!"

She walked down the hall a few doors and entered the staff restroom. Very quickly she came back out, a horrified look on her face. "What the hell did you do?"

House tilted his head to one side, glaring at her. He paused, then asked, "How many zolpidem did you take this morning before you went to sleep?"

"What's that got to do…"

He cut her off. "How many?"

She thought a moment. "Two. I know it's too much, but I was exhausted!"

"Chloe, listen to me. I'm going to ask you a question and I want an honest answer, understand?" He gripped her shoulders for emphasis. She didn't like taking orders like that, but kept silent. "What's the last thing you remember doing this morning before going to bed? Think!"

She furrowed her brow, looking off to her right. "Um, I took a shower, took the pills… oh, yeah, I do remember some numbnut knocking on my door, but he or she must have gone away, because I don't recall getting up to answer… Why are you looking at me so funny?"

Gripping her shoulders harder, he replied, "You honestly don't remember me coming to your apartment this morning?"

She thought her eyeballs were going to melt out of her head, his stare was so intense. "I… I honestly don't remember any such thing. Why? What happened?"

He stepped back and hung his head. He really seemed deflated. "Chloe, what's the number one side affect of zolpidem?"

"I know I took too much, but I told you…"

"Just answer the question!"

She looked at his shoes, then looked up. "Retrograde am…ne…sia… Oh… my… God…! Are you telling me…" Her hands flew up to her face. Her eyes darted left and right in utter confusion. He could tell she was really trying hard to remember something, anything.

He'd had women praise him, he'd had women laugh and even yawn at him, but he'd never had a woman that couldn't remember the event. He turned away and walked down the hall toward the elevators. His head was hanging, he was utterly dejected.

Chloe called after him, trying to apologize, but he just threw his hand up in the air in a 'forget it' gesture.

When she knew he was off the floor for sure, an evil smile shimmered across her face and she snapped her fingers. Gotcha! That'll teach you to call me old, fat and ugly.

That's right, Chloe Marzhal doesn't forget! And she was definitely in the wrong profession. She deserved an Oscar for that performance.


	2. Chapter 2

**16**

House arrived at his office around 9:45am on the thirteenth, none too happy. He'd been a real bear the last week and everyone, including Wilson had given him a wide berth. A lack of interesting patients to take his mind off things didn't help. Neither did clinic duty.

Wilson ambled in with an envelope in his hand. "I've been asked to deliver this, House." Getting a withering look, he tossed it on House's desk and turned to go. "I'd suggest you read it" was the last thing Wilson said.

House glanced at the envelope and realized it was hand-written, not typed. Usually requests for consults or speaking engagements were typed. He looked closer. It was Chloe's handwriting. Crisp and precise, the Palmer method to a T.

He sighed and opened it.

Dear Gregory,

Hope all is well with you. Gas up the bike, we're going on a road trip. Pick me up at eight a.m.

Chloe

p.s. Wear sturdy footwear.

He wadded up the note and threw it in the trash. Everyone in the hospital was buzzing about this forty-eight hour crap. He'd arranged to have the week off, figuring that would be enough time for her to get whatever it was out of her system and leave him alone for good.

Cameron had cleaned out his IN box and cleared his calendar. There really was nothing else to do but sit and wait until quitting time. He'd sent the kids to do his clinic hours, so he just kicked back and turned on the TV.

He hadn't told Wilson about Chloe's 'amnesia'. Honestly, how could he? Wilson would never let him forget it. It just lay there, eating his gut. She had been so responsive and… creative. And her hands, my God, her hands! He tried hard not to think about it. But it wouldn't go away. He found himself reliving that morning over and over again. He was even dreaming about it. That hickey had been the coup de grâce. He hadn't intended that, but he had never heard a woman purr that way. He just didn't want her to stop. Dammit! He grabbed his cane and hobbled down to the clinic. He had to have something else to think about, even if it was a cavalcade of idiotic complaints.

By lunchtime he'd seen three yeast infections, two strep throats, a nicely fractured wrist and was thoroughly sick of humanity. He met Wilson in the cafeteria.

"I see by the look on your face that you are eagerly anticipating the fulfillment of Chloe's wager." Wilson had warned Chloe that lying to House might not be such a good idea, but she assured him she knew what she was doing. And he really did find it amusing that she pulled it off. Wilson couldn't imagine what had interfered with House's LieDAR. He bought House lunch, per usual, and they found a table.

"House, if you looked any more miserable, I'd bury you. It can't possibly be as bad as you anticipate!"

"I just want it over with." He glanced up and gazed out the window, seeing two people get on a motorcycle and drive away from the hospital. He looked at Wilson oddly.

"What?"

"Chloe hates motorcycles, yes? She's deathly afraid of them. So why would she want to go on a road trip on a bike?" Wilson wasn't catching on. "That note you gave me this morning. It was from Chloe, telling me to gas up the bike, we were going on a road trip. I am to wear sturdy footwear as she put it." Wilson shrugged, befuddled. "Well, I can definitely make the road trip interesting, if that's what she wants."

House was perking up a bit.

**17**

The weatherman had promised a beautiful day and it appeared he might be right this time. There had been a gorgeous, fiery sunset the night before. 'Red skies at night, sailor's delight.' Chloe was carefully packing the wine bottle into her daypack when the knock on the door came. He stood in the doorway, surly as ever. Chloe noted, cheerily, that he had followed her instructions on the footwear. Biker boots will do just fine.

"Good morning! Ready?" He cocked his brow in a 'I guess' response.

She knew he was going to be difficult and was prepared. They went downstairs and she waited until he'd mounted, stowed his cane and steadied the bike before she hopped on. She hated motorcycles, they scared her, but she had her game face on.

"Where are we going?" Asked House in the most bored tone he could manage.

"Tom's River, please, driver."

He couldn't help but shudder as she slowly slid her arms around his waist. The bike roared to life and they were off.

It was a little over an hour's drive and it was beautiful. The closer they came to the ocean, the stronger came the scent of salt air, bracing and refreshing. Every time they rounded a corner, he dipped the bike just a bit too far just to witness her reaction. He knew it scared her, but she never once cried out, just clutched him a little tighter. She was one tough bird. Once they got to Tom's River, she started giving him turn by turn directions until, finally they were at the ocean. She had him turn into a gravel parking lot in front of a building with a huge sign: 'Tom's River Excursions'.

"Deep sea fishing, sailing, what?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Wait for it," was her only reply.

Entering the building, she motioned for him to sit while she continued to the front desk. He watched her talking to the proprietor who looked at him for a moment, smiled and nodded his head. House downed a Vicodin dry.

The two approached House and the proprietor stuck out his hand, "Dr. House, glad you could join us this morning. It promises to be a wonderful day!"

House stood and shook his hand, "For what?"

The man just smiled and replied, "Won't you two come with me, we'll get you started."

House felt like he was being led to the slaughter. His gut tightened and his leg throbbed.

The three piled into a Jeep and they headed to a small field above the water. House finally saw what he was in for. "Are you out of your mind?" He yelled at Chloe.

The proprietor spoke first. "Not to worry, Dr. House, Tom's River Excursions is fully handicapped accessible."

He glared at the man hatefully. All House could see was the expanse of the hang glider's wingspan. There were three of them parked in this field. "Crouch are you trying to kill me, I can't do this and you know it! Humiliate me some other way!"

She smiled up at him. "Oh ye, of little faith." As they rounded the corner of the first hang glider, he could see it was different. First of all the thing was huge, bigger than any he'd seen before and certainly bigger than the one he'd played with some years back.

"Come on, Dr. House, let's get you strapped in."

"Relax, Gregory, I won't drop you." She gave him a few minutes to study the contraption in front of him. It was a tandem hang glider. Two people, usually an instructor and a student shared the thrill of soaring. It had a tricycle-type wheel assembly which would take the shock of landing rather than anyone's legs. He was intrigued, in spite of himself, and allowed himself to be harnessed in. He was caught between wanting to trust her and fly and trying to stay upset with her.

Conflicted is a good word.

Chloe climbed up underneath him and strapped herself in. She was the pilot. That's when House saw the prop plane that was going to pull them both into the air. They adjusted their helmets and the proprietor checked all the straps and harnesses, then patted Chloe's helmet. She gave him the thumbs up sign.

The prop plane pulled forward slowly to take up the slack on the guide wire and they were off. House didn't realize he was holding his breath until the land dropped away from under them and they were suddenly free of the earth. The prop plane pulled them along to a pre-determined altitude. It was then that House saw Chloe hit some sort of lever and the guide wire disconnected, reeling itself back into the plane. They were on their own. She banked off toward the ocean to catch the thermal. Their helmets were wired so they could talk to each other, but he didn't know that until he could hear Chloe's voice. It was like she was in his head again.

"Are you okay up there?"

"Fine, fine," was all he said.

She smiled. The wind caressed them as they soared and banked, dipped and sailed. For awhile, House just closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness. They were up there for quite some time before Chloe began her descent.

"Do we have to stop just yet?" He asked.

She angled off and gave him some more time. The sensation of soaring was intoxicating. He felt like a little kid. Finally they returned to earth, House marveling at Chloe's skill at landing. No broken bones. He wasn't about to drop his guard, but maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all.

**18**

They disengaged themselves from the rigging and the proprietor brought House's cane back to him, undamaged. House nodded to the man. "I hope you enjoyed yourselves! Please come back anytime." The man shook House's hand again and patted Chloe on the arm. They returned to the parking lot the way they had left.

"Hungry?" Chloe asked.

House looked at his watch, surprised they had been aloft for so long. "Yeah, actually, I'm famished."

They made their way to a park and chose a spot under a gorgeous gnarled oak. Chloe emptied her daypack and set up a rather nice picnic lunch. House found a notch in the tree and balling up his leather jacket, made himself comfortable. They munched quietly on cold fried chicken, cornbread and fresh garden tomatoes. The wine was her favorite Riesling.

"So, Clairvoyant, where'd you learn to hang glide?"

Chloe was lying on her back on the quilt she'd laid down for them, gazing up at the sky through the leaves. So many different shades of green, with the sun sparkling through here and there. She was watching a couple of small birds chasing each other through the branches. A big, ugly shadow appeared above her head and seemed to block out the sun.

"Earth to Callisto, Hellooo?"

She sat up quickly, missing his nose by a matter of millimeters. "Huh? What?"

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Fine. I was just zoning for a minute. What did you ask?"

"Where'd you learn to hang glide? And what's the agenda for tomorrow? Skydiving? Bungee Jumping?"

She laughed. "You're an idiot. Nothing tomorrow. Wednesday at noon. Oh, and I learned to hang glide right here in Tom's River. I'm a certified instructor, thank you very much."

"Nothing for tomorrow, oh dear, what will I do with myself?" He cried in mock horror.

Still laughing, she started gathering up the picnic things. "Hire a hooker, I hear you can afford them. Come on, numbnuts, time to go home."

"I'll have you know the boys are just fine thank you. Care to take them out for a test run?"

"Sorry, I'm not quite doped up enough." Oh, that didn't come out right! She grit her teeth and turned her head away from him. "I'm sorry Gregory, I didn't mean to make fun of you."

He took a long stride and came very close to her. He reached up and pulled her collar away from her neck and bent down to kiss the place where the dark red patch had been. Tracing her neck with his lips up to her ear, he whispered, "It happened, Chloe. And it was good."

She swallowed hard and clutched his arm to keep herself from falling away. Looking into his eyes, she murmured, "I know. Do you honestly think I could forget something like that?"

He pulled away, eyes wide. "You… you lied to me?" He could smell a lie at fifty paces, No one lied to him and got away with it.

"Yes, yes I did. You called me old, fat and ugly in front of my colleagues, my co-workers, my friends. That was cruel, it hurt and humiliated me. What I did was cruel, it hurt and humiliated you. Now, we're even. Perfectly even."

"I did not!" he whined. On one level he was furious with her for lying to him, but on another, he was… he was… he was what? He was amazed and almost proud that she was able to fool him.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "You most certainly did. And now you're angry and want to try to do it again."

His overwhelming desire _was_ to throw another punch at her, but it suddenly occurred to him that he wanted something else even more. He wanted those hands on his skin again. And he wanted it bad.

"We passed any number of places on the way here, what say we get a room and get re-acquainted?"

"Doesn't count toward the forty-eight hours." Both her eyebrows were raised now, waiting to see his response to that.

"Fine. It's a freebie." He pulled her close and kissed her.

"Whoa there, cowboy, there's kids around." She tried to break away and found it difficult.

"Yeah? How d'ya think they got here?"

She laughed and pushed him away, gathered up the rest of the stuff and headed for the bike.

A few paces ahead of him, she did two things. First, she let him watch her… walk, and secondly, she thanked her lucky stars. Confession is always a tricky thing, it could have gone south in a hurry.

Wilson was right. That was one dangerous game she wouldn't play again.

**19**

Wednesday was the annual Princeton Jazz Festival, an all-day event that was hosted by the University and had on its bill several famous acts as well as infamous and even local talent. Chloe's cousin, Martin was one of the organizers of this affair and he had arranged for back stage passes for her and even a little surprise for House.

Tuesday crawled past for House. Try as he might, he couldn't get Chloe to stay overnight Monday. She kept saying she had plans that would take all day and that he would appreciate it later. So he moped around his place all day. He fidgeted, paced, couldn't stay still for more than ten minutes at a time. He must have flipped through the TV channels a hundred times. Even his video games gave him nothing.

Finally, he called Wilson and arranged to meet for drinks after he got off work. They met at one of their favorite watering holes. The place was jam-packed with jazz fans from all over the east coast. House had forgotten about the festival and groused about the tourists.

"Hey, it's good for business," protested Wilson.

"What? I can't hear you above the rabble!" Just as he said this, he spotted Chloe in a back corner booth with several men. She appeared to be having a grand time, laughing and talking, her smile and her green eyes shining. She seemed to be the only female. What the hell?

House left Wilson at the bar and fought through the crowd to get to her table. As he approached the group a very large and menacing man stepped in front of him with his arms crossed. "Can I help you, sir?" the big man asked.

House gazed around the man trying to catch Chloe's eye. She hadn't seen him yet. "No, you can't, I'm with someone else, but the guy at the bar over there is lonely." He motioned in Wilson's direction. When the man peered over at Wilson, House tried to go around him, but found that large doesn't always mean slow.

"Look buddy, this is a private party and you're not on the guest list."

House started raising his voice and finally, Chloe heard him. She smiled and got up. He could see her tapping the table with her fingers and speaking fast, smiling a lot. One of the men at the table spoke to the big man and he stepped aside. House gave him a sideways glance and headed for Chloe.

"What's going on?" asked House. "Who's the muscle?"

Chloe pulled him closer to the table and said to the party, "This is the guy I was telling you about. Greg House, meet my cousin, Martin Amberson. Martin is one of the organizers of tomorrow's Jazz Festival. But House wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the guy in the very corner. The guy the muscle must have been protecting. Chloe rolled her eyes at Martin and said, "…and Greg, I'd like you to meet…"

House shot out his hand and finished the sentence, "…Eric Clapton. This is a real pleasure." Eric rose as far as he could and shook House's hand.

If House had been a fourteen year old girl, he would burst out with something like, "I'm never washing my hand again!" He couldn't believe it.

An extra chair was brought over and everyone made room for the new arrival.

"Dr. House, I hear you're something of a pianist," Eric began, "Martin and Chloe here have been singing your praises. I do hope we get to hear something of you while we're here."

House was embarrassed, but pleased. "Well, I hope they didn't raise expectations too high and please, call me Greg."

Chloe saw Wilson at the bar and whispered to the waiter. After berating House about abandoning his friend, she arranged for Wilson to join them as well. The booth was now too crowded, so the group moved to the upstairs lounge. House and Clapton had hit it off rather quickly and they headed straight for the small stage in the corner. Over the next hour or so, a local bass player and drummer joined them as well as a rather well-known sax man. By midnight the place was jamming and music was pouring out into the streets.

Wilson leaned over and whispered in Chloe's ear, "You do realize we'll never be able to live with him from now on, don't you?"

Chloe laughed heartily. "Who could live with him before?" They both laughed. "This wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow. Martin had gotten us back stage passes and had arranged for a meet. This is an unexpected treat."

Wilson excused himself soon after and left as he had to be at work early. Around two a.m. the party finally broke up and everyone scattered. Outside on the street, people were milling around heading from bar to bar, having a great time. House was on cloud nine. He grabbed Chloe and actually lifted her off her feet and spun her around then kissed her passionately. "I can't believe it! He told me he and I were supposed to meet tomorrow at the festival, said they were going to pull me out of the audience to play. Chloe, I don't get it, why are you doing this? What is all this about?"

She smiled up at him, then placed her hands on either side of his face and replied, "Life doesn't suck all the time, does it?"

"Life sucks most of the time." He paused, trying to look stern but gave up, kissing her again. "But not tonight. And you're coming home with me… no arguments!"

There weren't any.

**20**

Twenty-eight hours to go. He couldn't imagine what she had left in store for him. His mind raced this way and that, but he couldn't for the life of him guess.

The festival was fantastic. Having backstage passes and being able to meet the performers was great fun. House was in heaven with the all-day music. When they weren't backstage, they were lounging on lawn chairs watching from the audience, sipping Coronas. He nattered on and on about this guy's technique or that gal's comprehension of the composer's intent. She finally had to tell him to shut up already so she could hear the music.

Later that night, exhausted and happier than he'd been in years, he just lay back and let Chloe do what he'd decided she did best. Drive him out of his mind. Not only had she taken this past year to lose one hundred four pounds, but she'd become a hang gliding instructor, and taken up scuba diving. She'd shown him several examples of breath control exercises during the night. He started thinking she just liked to watch him lose his self-control. Truth be told, she did.

Chloe had left that morning, early, amongst many protestations. Smiling, she just blew him a kiss and left. You could still smell the smoke in his apartment from the smoldering heat she'd ignited. It's absolutely true: you never know what's behind the curtain.

She'd given him a choice today. Noon to eight or two to midnight. He chose the latter. That seemed to please her and that excited him. What in God's name did she have up her sleeve this time?

She'd also given him strict instructions to wear work clothes (by that she meant clothes he didn't mind getting dirty) and be prepared to change into a 'nice suit' later on. Well, the first part wouldn't be difficult, he'd just dress like he always did. He had a little more trouble with the latter. Unbeknownst to Wilson or anyone else, he really did own his own tux. But she hadn't said tux, she just said 'nice suit'. Okay, the weather was fine, so he went with the linen jacket and trousers with the pale blue shirt with darker blue tie. At least he could put colors together. He wasn't that hopeless.

He'd had time to think about all this once he dragged himself out of bed. The last three days had been a roller coaster ride for him. He couldn't argue that what had happened had been enjoyable. But, how long would something like this last? Even the best vacations had to come to an end. Was she going to want more? Was she going to want to insert herself into his life permanently? He'd battled his way out of tougher romantic situations than this. Usually, all it took was a massive dose of 'the specialty of the House' to send even the most gorgeous creature shrieking for mama. But Chloe wasn't like that. She never made google-y eyes at him or hung on his every word or acted like he was anything more than he was… an ass.

House looked around his apartment. If it weren't for his own memories, you'd never know she'd been there. Not a toothbrush in sight, no lingerie draped over chairs. Nothing. Either she was just precisely what she appeared to be, or she was the most devious creature since, well, since him! No way was a mere woman going to 'out-deviant' him!

Just as he was beginning to think some danger threatened, there was a knock at the door. Startled out of his reverie, he realized is was 1:45p.m. Peeking out the peephole, he saw a scruffy looking kid standing there, shifting from one foot to the other.

House opened the door.

"You House?" The kid said, smacking his chewing gum like he was deliberately trying to remove teeth.

"Who wants to know?"

The kid shifted his weight and said, "Look dude, I was told to pick up some old guy and take him to the theater. If you're House, you're it!"

House imitated the kids' face, "Who gives you your orders… dude?"

Shaking his head he bewailed, "Man, she told me you'd give me trouble." Looking up at the ceiling like he was trying to remember something, he continued, "she said to tell you 'if you like the box, put on your shox', or at least that's what I think she… dude?"

House had lunged back into the apartment to grab his cane and his leather jacket. "So, what are you waitin' for, junior? Let's go!"

Once in the street, the kid mounted a motorcycle and looked at House. "Well, come on, dude, she'll have my 'nads if you're not there on time!"

Blinking twice, House gave the kid his world-famous grimace and politely declined the offer. "Got my own, man, I'll follow you."

Shrugging the kid said, "Whatever, dude". And so they began their lovely journey to a local theater. The advertised play this month was 'The Importance Of Being Earnest' by Oscar Wilde. House liked Wilde, always thought he'd have been an interesting person to have known.

Inside the theater a rather hard-looking woman began screaming at 'the kid'. "David, where in the sixth level of hell have you been, you useless lump of lard?"

David gave as good as he got. "Look, you horse-faced bitch, I went to get that guy Miss Marzhal said for me to go get, so if you don't like it, you two cunts can duke it out!"

Well, wasn't this pleasant thought House. The hard-faced woman walked up to him and looked him up and down over the tops of her glasses. "Takes all kinds, I suppose, you can go with David, and for heaven's sake, don't fall over anything! Insurance doesn't cover YOU at all!" House thought of about sixteen different comebacks, but was interrupted by David.

"Hey, dude, I could use a hand!"

For the next few hours House helped with backstage work, as much as he was able. He found it fun. Although he couldn't do a lot of the heavy lifting, he helped paint and build sets and organize props. He'd never been backstage and was intrigued by all the minutiae of creating a fantasy world. He would have thought it would more involved, but it turned out to be quite simple. One wall serving as two just by turning it around, a formal dining room table instantly became a substantial office desk by throwing a cunningly painted piece of cloth over it. Every once in a while he wondered where Chloe was, but, to be honest, he was enjoying himself too much.

At 6:00p.m. David announced it was time for him to go, but to be back at 8:00p.m. sharp. He showed him the side entrance where he could gain access to a great box seat above the stage. House didn't want to leave and said so.

"Look man, between Miss Marzhal and the bitch-from-hell, cut a guy some slack willya?"

House laughed and shook David's hand. "It's been fun, kid, thanks. By the way, where is 'Miss Marzhal'?"

David backed up, a horrified look on his face. "Man don't even ask!" Before House could respond, David was gone.

House headed back to his apartment grabbing something to eat on the way. Once there he showered, almost thought about shaving, but decided against it, remembering the veiled reference to 'the box' and dressed.

Back at the theater, 'Miss Marzhal' handed David a crisp $100 bill. "Thank you David, you don't know how much pleasure you brought to a lonely soul."

David stared dumbly at the bill. "Man, I mean, Miss Marzhal, I didn't do nuthin, but if you ever want me to do it again, just call me!" Chloe laughed and went into her dressing room.

House returned to the theater and followed David's instructions to the box seats, managing to obtain a glass of champagne in the lobby. Seems he had the place to himself, but the rest of the theater was packed. He made himself comfortable and looked around. Actually, looking for Chloe. He hadn't seen or heard from her all day. Every time he called her cell, he got her voice mail. He found himself sulking.

The house lights went down and a gigantic pipe organ materialized from somewhere beneath the stage. For a half an hour the audience was regaled with some pretty good music, considering it was an organ. Organs always reminded House of roller rinks.

Once the music ended and the audience was softened up, the curtain rose and the play began. All the actors were local people, none of whom he recognized (not that he would have anyway) until Lady Bracknell made her entrance.

"Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you are behaving very well."

House blew champagne out his nose and received several withering looks from the patrons below. Which he returned in kind. It was Chloe, Chloe was playing the part of Lady Bracknell! How had he missed that on the marquee? Suddenly, the play became very interesting, indeed.

**21**

After the show, Chloe was in her dressing room, which she shared with several others, removing her make up. She was pleased to note it took quite a bit to make her look like an older woman. 'Vanity, vanity, all is vanity…' she thought to herself. There was a knock at the door. One of the other girls went to answer it and there stood House with a bouquet of roses. Where he managed to steal them, she had no idea, but was touched. The girls tittered and snickered. "Down, ladies, he's just an ill-tempered lap dog."

Victoria, who had played Cecily whispered in Chloe's ear, "I'd like to see that tongue do some lapping!"

Chloe laughed, blushed, and decided it was safest to get him out of there, quickly. Of course, he wasn't in such a hurry. It was always nice to gaze on several females in various stages of undress.

Chloe managed to get House back into the hallway, the girls giggling and waving at him. "The flowers are lovely, thank you." She kissed him lightly, "Wait here, I'll be right out."

He gave her one of his famous pouty faces, "Aw, Mom, do I have to?"

"Well, son, if you want any dessert, you'll do what you're told."

He leered at her and leaned up against the wall. "Okay, okay."

"You know," she said turning back to the dressing room, "your time is almost up and I won't be here next week. Maybe we should be winding this thing down." She couldn't quite look at him.

"Do we have to kill it? Can't we just let it die a natural death?" He replied softly.

Damn, he caught on quick. Chloe turned back to him. She had been worrying about how this was all going to play out. She hadn't expected the sex to continue after that 'sleeping pill' scam. She'd had a moment of weakness in the park and now she wasn't sure how to keep this thing 'friendly'.

"Greg, I like you…"

"Oh God! The I Like You Speech!" He made a horrible face and tried to turn away.

"No, no, listen to me! How many people standing on the face of this earth can honestly say they like you? Just the way you are?"

He looked at her quizzically.

"Not many, I'll wager. Oh, they put up with you, mollify you, even coddle you. But how many of them actually LIKE you?" She was gripping his arms, holding him in one place. "Well, I do like you. Just like you are. Annoyance and aggravation are one thing, hate is something else altogether. I don't want to end up hating you or you hating me. I enjoy your company. I like watching how your mind works, how you maneuver in and around people, keeping just out of their reach." She made a fake 'gross' face and continued, "I even like sex with you, but we both know that 'happily ever after' doesn't apply to us. I've known that about myself for years. Losing you as a lover would be difficult, losing you as a friend would be devastating. Do you understand anything I'm saying?"

Oddly enough, he did understand. He'd been struggling with the same doubts. She was actually okay with the idea of 'some but not all'. The realization struck him hard. "You mean to tell me that if I don't spend the rest of my life with you, you're not going to go all hysterical on me?"

She laughed. "If I had to spend twenty-four hours a day with you, day in and day out, I'd either shoot you or shoot myself. And my guess is that I'd shoot you first!" She smiled up at him coyly, "Small doses of you are great and would be very welcome." The last sentence she said very slowly and pointedly, looking him right in the eye. He got it.

He reached up and removed her hands from his arms, pulling them behind her, growling in her ear "Get dressed you old tart, I want several small doses of you right now!"

**22**

They decided to do whatever it was they were going to do at his place, because his bed was bigger. Logistics, nothing more, he assured her, you understand. While she showered to get the rest of the 'greasepaint' off of her, she could hear him making noises of some sort in the bedroom. Rearranging furniture? With his leg? What the hell is he doing? While she was drying her hair, the louder noises ended, but she could still hear him rustling in and around the apartment. He had his timing down well, because as soon as the blow dryer clicked off, the noises stopped. Okay, now she was scared.

'And me without my 9mm.' Chloe poked her head out of the bathroom door and looked around. Nothing appeared terribly out of place. With the oversized towel still wrapped around her, she ventured out into the bedroom. Nothing suspicious, just the cooler in a different corner than usual. Creeping into the living room. Nothing. Finally, she found him in the kitchen, of all places. "What are you doing?"

He turned around with a plate of fresh fruit in his hand, ever so innocently. "Just grabbing a little snack."

"What was all that noise I heard while I was in the shower?"

He was still looking at her like an oversized Gumby. "Just straightening up a bit, the place was a mess."

She squinted at him, "Uh-huh. I'm going to go get ready for bed."

He snarked, "You look ready to me."

She nodded her head knowing he was up to something, but turned and left the room. She hadn't see him grab the chocolate sauce, or the candles, or the ice for that matter. But, of course she didn't. That was earlier. Before he moved the cooler.

"Planning on a long night?" She was smirking now, looking down at the little row of condom packets he had lined up on the bedside table.

He walked up behind her. "Something like that… c'mere." He slid his hands around her waist, pulling off the towel and throwing it… somewhere, making his hands comfortable around her breasts. All he had on was a tee and his boxers, so she knew what he was all about. They did their little dance, him nibbling on the back of her neck, her going a little crazy, until he could strip down himself and get her into the bed.

He had learned quickly just exactly how to drive her nuts and bring her right to the brink. When she thought she was about to pass out from expectation, he did something weird. He stopped. Well, he stopped her. He went right ahead without her. What the fuck?

House had all he could do to keep from laughing at Chloe. That look on her face was priceless. You know the one where she looks like she's just coming up out of anesthesia? Kinda dopey, you know she can't see clearly and you know she can't think clearly. All it takes is a little touch here or a suckle there and off the edge she goes again. But not all the way. Oh no, not yet. He wanted to piss her off first. Trust House, it's just better that way.

He came back to her, stroking and fondling, acting apologetic. "Sorry, babe, guess I just got excited." His mouth found hers and she responded just like he knew she would… hungrily. Arms and legs wrapped around him, like there wasn't enough of her to press against him. When she started rubbing his facial scruff against her neck, he knew he had her where he wanted her. He entered her and started moving slowly. When she started bucking toward him, he stopped her. Made her lie completely still. "Shh… wait for it." She was gasping for air. Then he pulled out altogether. God, what self-control that took. If he didn't already know what was coming next, he would never have been able to manage it.

"What are you doing? Are you mad at me or something?" Chloe's voice had gotten husky, low and desperate with hormonal overload. He knew it wouldn't take much more. She was trembling all over, just like a little cat in heat.

He rolled off her and placed his arm over his face, in his best Sarah Bernhardt imitation. "I've just got to think about all this."

That did it.

"NOW? Now you have to THINK? How can you possibly think at a time like this?" She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. She started to storm away. That was the move he'd been waiting for. He grabbed her around the waist and literally swept her off her feet, forcing her back belly-down on the bed, her knees tucked up nicely under her. With his left hand he grabbed her hands and held them firmly behind her back, his right arm still firmly around her waist. He positioned himself so that his knees kept her legs from moving and leaned forward, his weight against her back. The pain in his leg was just a dull thud. He made sure her face was turned so she could breathe… he didn't want to suffocate her… much.

"Where do you think you're going, my little pretty?" He growled into her ear. "What is it you want, Chloe? Hmmm?"

"I want you off me, you cretin!" She responded, mostly into the pillow.

"No, that's not what you want, is it?" His right hand loosened its grip and his fingers found their way to her wetness. 'This is different' she remembered thinking, he hadn't heard about Madame Katherine's had he? No way!

Those long, strong fingers found her clitoris and played until she was nearly screaming into the sheets. "What do you want, Chloe?" He growled at her again.

She could barely speak, much less form a coherent sentence. "I… I want you inside me… now!"

His fingers suddenly came away from his plaything. "That's only part of what you want, isn't it, Chloe?" Her body bucked under him, trying to create her own friction, but House wouldn't have any of that. He made sure her legs couldn't come together. Her breathing became ragged. "What do you want, Chloe?"

She caved. "I want to cum, I want you to make me cum… Please!" She really was screaming now. Thank God these apartments were built heavily.

He released her arms and slid his hands under her shoulders for better leverage. "That's my girl" he whispered wickedly into her ear, licking her hot cheek for emphasis. House slammed into her waiting, wanting wetness to the hilt. But only twice, well, three times. He pulled out again, hearing her anguish and grabbed for one of the condoms, tearing the packet open with his teeth and applying it with one svelte move. Just as Chloe was about to protest again, he shoved his length into her hard. Some sort of inhuman sounds were coming out of her mouth. Seemed to sound like his name, but he wasn't listening.

He knew she was at her most vulnerable now and that's what he'd been working for. He pulled out again, then positioned himself at the entrance to that gorgeous ass of hers and pushed, opening her not only physically, but emotionally to him. Chloe may not want to be with House or he with her 24/7, but he wanted to make sure he was the only one she wanted to be with in bed.

Whenever.

She'd forgotten how damned good this felt when done by someone who knew how. Son of a bitch! Low, rumbling groans followed one after another from her throat. The staccato rhythm smoothed and they rolled with it until Chloe just couldn't stand anymore. By now her voice was barely audible. "Please let me cum… please!"

House leaned over, peering into her face which was glowing, beautiful, transfixed and transformed. She was in a wonderful place. He wanted to be there with her. "Now, Chloe, cum with me! Now!" Her mouth dropped open and her eyes rolled back in her head.

They both shattered into a million shards of iridescent glass. He held her hard against him until he had emptied himself fully and until her thrashing calmed to a steady tremble. House gently turned her head and twisted himself so that he could kiss her longingly. Their tongues made love just as urgently as their bodies had. Slowly and carefully he pulled out of her and discreetly disposed of the condom. He hated those things. So did she, though she never said it outright.

They collapsed on their sides and lay spooned together, comfortable with one another and in their own skins. Now he knew all.

**23**

Chloe had had something planned for Friday, but for the life of her couldn't remember what it was. In fact, the last few hours were pretty hazy. All she knew for sure was that she was lying against someone very warm and it felt good. She drifted back to sleep.

"Hey, lazy butt, don't you have something wild and exciting planned for me today?"

"You used up your last eight hours with that little candle and ice trick, lover boy. Now, go away, I have some fantasies to re-live."

"Not without me you don't!"

"Okay, but this time, I get to tie you down!"

The next couple of hours passed pleasantly.

While Chloe showered, House kept popping in with suggestions. "Rock climbing? Deep sea diving? Spelunking?" She just kept laughing at him. "Where's your purse?" He demanded.

"Have you ever once seen me with a purse?" She retorted.

"Well, you carry that little bag thingie into work with you, isn't that a purse?" Sometimes he was just dense.

"That 'little bag thingie' is my version of a Gladstone bag, numbnuts." She was bent over drying her hair. He gave her a good smack. "Hey, don't get me started again, I'll make you shave!"

He thought about that for about a split second before ducking out of the room.

"What do you want with my purse, anyway?" She asked, trying to round up her clothes from the night before.

"To dig through it and find clues, Watson! Why else would I risk cooties?"

"Oh, oh! Now I remember! Slomming! That's it. There's a slom pit downtown in some basement club. I thought you'd find that interesting. Club opens at six, we'll have to figure out something to do until then."

He almost fell for it.

It was around two-ish before they finally quit acting like a couple of teenagers in heat. "Damn, I'm hungry, go cook me something, woman!"

"Bite me!"

He did.

She threw his phone at him. "Order out!"

Just then Chloe's cell phone rang. She recognized the number and jumped out of the bed. "I've got to get this," was all she said. He could only hear bits and pieces. He followed her, trying to get his ear near enough to hear. She kept pushing him away.

"Yes, we'll be ready."

"Yes, that's fine."

"Perfect! Thank you!"

"Hey, nosey parker! Cancel that pizza delivery and shine your shoes, we're going to the city."

**24**

"Where's House?" Wilson practically crashed into the diagnostics war room. Cameron almost dropped her cup of coffee reacting to the near-panicked look on his face.

"Who knows where he is. You were the last one to see him. He could be in Timbuktu for all we know. Have you called Chloe?" Foreman could see there was a problem, but was trying to stay calm. Wilson was as pale as death.

"What's wrong, for God's sake?" Asked Chase.

"Three nurses and a patient have collapsed in the clinic. They're all unconscious and there doesn't seem to be a connection between them except the clinic itself. Cuddy's quarantined the area and we have about 15 conscious patients who are scared out of their minds. Cuddy's the only doctor in there. She won't let anyone else in or out."

"Well, House is going to be of no use," offered Chase, "if we can't find him. But, I think finding him can take a back seat to figuring out what's going on."

Somehow, that seemed to bring some color back to Wilson's face. "Right, I'll get someone to try and track down House, you guys suit up and meet me down in the isolation unit." Wilson headed down the hall.

Foreman sighed, "You realize if this turns out to be nothing, House is going to really pissed."

Cameron screwed up her face. "Why? You'd think he'd like to figure out something like this."

Chase chimed in, "But you forget, this is the last day of the wager payment. Who knows what we'd be pulling him away from." He snickered to himself.

Cameron tossed her head in disgust, "I could care less about his pecker problems. If he's needed here, they'll just have to reschedule!"

Both Foreman and Chase looked at each other, then at her and just laughed. "We'll let you make that phone call."

"Fine with me!" She huffed.

The hospital's Hazardous Materials team had been alerted by Cuddy and swung into action. The clinic was cordoned off and a tunnel of sorts was created to funnel patients from there to the isolation unit downstairs. All air ducting was automatically re-routed to prevent any circulation to other parts of the hospital, just in case whatever it was was airborne. The hospital went to lock-down and all emergencies were diverted to other hospitals. Cuddy had two nurses and a pharmacist with her to care for the unconscious as well as the conscious patients. They had all been exposed to whatever 'it' was.

This was the definition of an internal disaster.

In the isolation unit, there were three more especially trained nurses, two C.N.A.s, a lab tech and a radiology tech standing by. Cuddy stayed in the clinic with the conscious patients while the remaining staff removed the unconscious victims one by one to the isolation unit. There were four rooms specified as negative pressure rooms with two more that could be converted with portable pressure units. Each room was outfitted with four hospital beds and each of the four beds could be isolated from each other by using dividing walls if needed. The four unconscious patients were placed in one room and, at this point, only separated by curtains. The others were brought down in groups, depending on family connection and gender.

Once everyone was gathered in one place, the 'tunnel' was dismantled but the clinic remained sealed. The HazMat Team inside were going over every inch with swabs and electronic 'sniffers'. Cuddy was flitting from one person to another, trying to maintain calm. "We don't really know what's going on just yet. For all we know, we may have had a sudden rash of fainting spells and it will turn out to be nothing. We will start testing immediately and keep you all informed each step of the way."

She wasn't buying it, but so far, it was working.

She gave instruction to the nurses and ancillary personnel to collect blood samples and swab everyone's noses and throats, including herself and the clinic staff. Start with the basics and work up from there. At the same time, the nurses and the ducklings were trying to obtain medical histories on 18 people without breaching confidentiality. Trying to prevent a domino effect, they managed to get each person alone long enough for them to feel comfortable answering all the invasive questions. That way, none of the other patients heard the others' symptoms, if any.

The ducklings interviewed the staff members and Cuddy separately.

Everyone bent to their tasks and hoped this would end up being a big nothing they could laugh about next week.

**25**

The stretch limo purred up to the curb and an attentive chauffeur in a crisp gray uniform hopped out and opened the door for his two passengers.

House was stunning as only House can be in his tuxedo and Chloe was a knockout in her black faux leather halter dress. He'd kept insisting she needed stiletto heels, but she demurred and chose the more comfortable and less dangerous open-toed sandals. "These are all I have, they'll have to do. Besides, while there's a lot I might do for you, Gregory, breaking my neck is not in the top ten."

"Tell me again where we're going?" He nuzzled her neck, trying to run his hand up her skirt. The chauffeur had closed the communicating window after informing them of the time it would take to get where they were going. He couldn't remember how many trysts he'd been host to in his two years with this company. Everybody loved doing it in the limo! Well, so did he.

Chloe firmly, but gently, removed House's hands from her body and very politely remarked, "We're going to the city, that's all you need to know." She took some time to rearrange her skirt and press out the wrinkles with her hands.

He was taken aback by her primness all of a sudden. "Hey, what's up, Chuckles?"

She just smiled, "It took me several hours just to figure out how to wear this thing, Gregory, I'll not have you messing me up. Just consider it prolonged torture. You like that, admit it. Enjoy it." She moved away from him to explore all the nooks and crannies in the limo, discovering all the little goodies they held. She'd never been in a limo and really wanted to enjoy it.

House sat back and watched her. She really was uncomfortable, he thought. She wasn't yet at ease with her 'new' body and she definitely wasn't at ease with playing dress up. He filed that away under "Future mayhem: Chloe's insecurities". He did, however, accept the champagne she offered.

"What?" she asked, "you're studying me again. What horrible hidden truths have you discovered this time? What awful secrets are you going to hold over my head for the rest of my life? Hmmm?"

He leaned back against the plush leather and with an evil grin simply stated, "You look beautiful tonight."

She knew that wasn't true, but she also knew he was messing with her head. Again. "Oh my, you do play dirty, don't you?"

**26**

So far, they had found two cases of active TB that were being treated by outside physicians. They were far past the point of being contagious. Foreman tested one of the unconscious nurse's blood sugar and found it was over 500. That would account for her passing out. He started an insulin drip as well as a potassium infusion. Within three hours, the nurse recovered enough to tell the team what had happened. She hadn't been feeling well for about a month, but had no idea she was a diabetic until now.

The patient who had collapsed finally awoke on his own to tell Cameron that he saw one of the nurses in the hall faint just at the same time that another nurse was drawing blood from him. He had a phobia of needles, which he hadn't thought to mention. He was embarrassed to admit he struck the nurse and knocked her out before he fainted. A nice contusion just under her left jaw confirmed his story. Cameron had her x-rayed and concluded that other than a concussion, she was fine.

That left the third nurse. No one had any idea what had happened in her case. Cuddy had simply found her lying on the floor of the staff restroom. According to the two unaffected clinic nurses, Sheila (for that was her name) had just returned a few days before from a trip to California to visit her sister. She had complained of mild cold and a headache, but attributed that to jet lag.

Cuddy huddled with the ducklings and Wilson out of earshot of the other patients. "So far, no one is showing any symptoms of anything and all the blood work from the waiting room patients is clean."

Foreman stated grimly, "It's Sheila I'm worried about. She's not waking up, not responding to stimuli and she's developed a fever. I hate to say it, but this could be some sort of encephalopathy or meningitis. With luck, it's confined to her."

Cameron piped in, "But if it's an arbovirus we could have a problem!"

Foreman nodded. "Exactly."

Chase was reading Sheila's file, "Her blood work shows leukocytosis and eosinophilia, but that's so non-specific at this point, it doesn't tell us much."

"Foreman, do an LP on Sheila and check for glucose and red blood cells, as well as any bacteria. Let's get her further isolated, just in case." Foreman and Cameron turned to tend to this chore.

Wilson stroked his chin and said, "We need to find out where in California this sister lives. Maybe Sheila contracted something there and brought it back with her."

"Oh Cripes!" sighed Cuddy. "I'll make some phone calls and let you know. Wilson, will you handle notifying the other patients of the test results so far and try to keep them calm, you're better at that than I am. We're going to have to start feeding people soon. Maybe that'll help as well." Wilson agreed patting Cuddy's arm in a reassuring gesture and turned to go.

**27**

Chloe was feeling a little more relaxed. The long drive helped as well as the champagne. House had behaved himself thus far and they were in the middle of a pleasant conversation about nipples.

"Of course they're not useless! Don't be silly!"

"But you have to admit yours are more sensitive than mine."

"I have to admit no such thing. That's patently false."

"Then how come you're flickering at me over there?"

"You've got a jacket to hide yours! Just because I can't see them doesn't mean they're not 'flickering'."

She looked down at herself. He was right. She was 'flickering'. Dammit. She knew she shouldn't have worn this dress. It was crazy wicked. This one did have plunging necklines and thigh-exposing side slits. Whatever had she been thinking? She didn't have much of a cleavage and she certainly didn't have Tina Turner legs. 'I guess I just wanted to see what kind of reaction I'd get. I'd be interesting to see if I could get leered at by someone other than House, who would leer at a housecat if it would get him laid.' She giggled to herself.

"Are you laughing at me again?" He asked, flashing those baby blues at her.

"Yeah, you and the housecat." She responded, but didn't bother to explain.

"I still think you look lovely." He remarked.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you." She replied.

"Kindness has nothing to do with it, I assure you." That made her laugh.

Finally, their destination was in sight. The limo pulled up to the entrance of the Metropolitan Opera House at the Lincoln Center. "Well, Clutter, you've outdone yourself. I had no idea you were an opera buff."

The chauffeur opened the door and House exited first, then assisted Chloe out of the limo. "I'll be back to collect you after the performance. Enjoy your evening, Ma'am, Sir." He tipped his hat and was gone.

"Well, I can't call myself an aficionado, but there are a few operas I do like to hear. Madame Butterfly, La Boheme, and this one." They were peering at the huge banner announcing the showing of Turandot by Puccini. "Such fantastic costumes!" she sighed.

"Not to mention the sets and back drops." House was remembering his little gig at the theater.

"Shall we, Madame?" House made an exaggerated bowing gesture toward the entrance. She held out her hand like some sort of princess and smiled as he kissed her hand and led her into the building.

What a marvelous place! The soaring windows and Swarovski-crystal "exploding star" chandeliers took her breath away. The sweeping staircases were stunning. A whispered "Oh my" was all she could manage. There were so many different sections, she felt as though she could spend a week and not even get to the main auditorium.

But they were running a little late and maneuvered their way to their seats. The conductor made his entrance to wild applause then the music began in earnest. The acoustics were fantastic, they both felt they were floating on a sea of sound.

The curtain rose and Franco Zeffirelli's Production of Turandot was launched.

**28**

"You're not going to like this," Foreman began, "LP positive for glucose, blood and it's cloudy. I've sent cultures. I suggest we start her on acyclovir and doxycycline to cover our bases until the cultures come back."

Cuddy hung her head. "Damn! Now we have to keep these folks here until symptoms show up. At least we can open the rest of the hospital. The HazMat team tells me the clinic is clean."

Chase observed that the three people in the same room with Sheila were most likely to show symptoms first, but weren't. Which, all agreed was good news.

"Well, here's some not so good news." Wilson entered the conversation with some paperwork in his hands. "Seems our Miss Sheila's sister owns an orange grove in Bakersfield, California and Sheila went out to help with the spring groundbreaking."

Cameron looked puzzled, "So?"

Cuddy picked up the clue. "Bakersfield, California is located in the southern San Joaquin Valley and during the spring, tilling the soil is a prime source of coccidioidomycosis spores."

Chase jumped up, "I've never seen Valley Fever. Holy cow!" he paused, "She has Valley Fever AND some form of encephalitis or meningitis caused by Valley Fever? Chase was stoked. "We've got to start her on amphotericin B."

Foreman chimed in at this point. "Wait, wait. She just got back from California, right? It's too soon for meningitis from Valley Fever to be kicking in. Maybe she does have both. We need to find out when this headache started, before or after she visited her sister. And we might not have to keep these folks here. If this were some fulminate meningitis, they would have been showing symptoms by now."

"Okay, okay." Cuddy really hated these out-of-control situations. It's the kind of thing House lived and breathed for, not her. "She's still unconscious, so let's try to get a sputum specimen. Suction her or bronch her if you have to. Let's see if she's growing any spores."

Chase practically bolted out of the room, Foreman following close behind.

The hours passed and the isolated patients were made as comfortable as possible and kept informed of what was going on, with them, anyway. Cuddy arranged for a nice dinner for everyone and there were few complaints. The space suits came off, but strict precautions were still being observed with Sheila. The clinic nurses were re-interviewed by Cameron and disclosed that Sheila had, indeed, complained of head and neck pain before leaving for California. No one thought it strange, nursing is hard physical labor, even clinic duty. None of them remembered her complaining of fever or any other symptoms.

"Wait," said Brenda (the nurse who had been cold-cocked by the needle patient), "She had a cold sore. I remember, how pissed off she was. She had a date for dinner about a week before she left for California and she had to cancel because of it. It was a pretty bad one, too."

Cameron joined Foreman and Chase who were working with Sheila. "Sheila had a cold sore, a pretty bad one, before she left for California."

Foreman looked at Sheila's face. "I don't see any sign of it now, let's she if it's inside her mouth."

Chase commented, "My nana-mum used to get those really bad, they'd extend way up into her nose. Made her miserable." They all three looked at each other, concern covering their faces. "Shit."

They obtained the specimens and found an almost healed sore deep inside Sheila's nose which they swabbed as well. Down in the lab they confirmed their suspicions. "Coccidioidomycosis spores in her lungs, Herpes simplex in her nasal passages."

Foreman checked the computer and sighed. "Herpes simplex in her CSF. It's confirmed."

They alerted Cuddy. "Okay, Chase, start the amphotericin B and make sure to add hydrocortisone to it to prevent rigors. Pre-medicate her with acetaminophen and diphenhydramine as well, try to make her as comfortable as we can. Ampho can be a bitch. Stop the doxycycline, but continue the acyclovir."

Wilson and Cuddy began discharging all the other patients, much to everyone's relief. Sheila was moved to a room upstairs, but left under strict isolation precautions.

The crisis was over and as they were able, Cuddy, Wilson and the ducklings were finally able to go home and catch up on some much needed sleep. No one even thought about House anymore.

**29**

They were reliving the opera in the limo on the way home. Having both purchased a CD recording of the event, they were playing it, repeating 'Nessum Dorma' more than once. Chloe had her feet in House's lap, and, surprising even to him, he was massaging them quite well. He liked the feel of the silk stockings and kept wondering what type she was wearing. Chloe's head was leaning against the cool glass of the window, remembering the glistening headdress of the 'ice princess'. How it shimmered and sparkled under the lights.

"Well, my pretty Jackalope," she sighed, "Run away! Run away!" she said in her best Python imitation. "Your debt is paid, you may fly away little bird, you owe me nothing more." She smiled to herself.

"It wasn't a jackalope, Clito--, I mean Clifford," he hurriedly tried to recover, "you don't expect me to jump out of the limo just now, do you? I'd mess up a perfectly good tuxedo." He took off his jacket and removed his bow tie. It was irritating.

Chloe pulled her knees up under her chin and broke out laughing, "I was wondering how long it would take for you to _finally_ slip up and call me 'clitoris'." She was laughing joyously, tearfully. "You're just too much fun."

He lunged at her, grabbing her hips and pulling her down onto her back on the seat. At the same time, he ran his hand up her left inner thigh, following the silk he was so curious about. And, in the end, he found out. Her silk pantyhose were crotchless. She had absolutely nothing else on under that dress.

"Oh!" she cried softly.

"Oh, indeed, you little tease! Just when were you going to tell me about this?"

She giggled and brushed her hand across his face. "I figured you'd either find out or… or not." Her eyebrow was arched in something of a challenge.

"So, what would you like me to do about this development?" He asked, nuzzling her neck, his palm exploring what he'd found, which was quite damp by this time.

"Oh, my," she sighed, "just use your imagination. I find I like your imagination, Greg."

He licked and suckled her neck as his arms slid around to her back, undoing the halter. With his teeth, he pulled the halter off, exposing her pale breasts with their little rosebud nipples standing at full attention, waiting… waiting. House spent quite a bit of time attending to them as he watched her face. He enjoyed watching her reactions, it aroused him fiercely. Finally, he moved up to her ear and whispered, "I imagine I'm awfully hungry."

She smiled and responded huskily, "Then, perhaps you should have something sweet… to eat." She reveled in the growl that escaped his lips as he began his descent from ear to neck, from neck to shoulder, from shoulder to breast, from breast to belly and beyond.

Suddenly, he sat up and back, moving slightly away from her. She looked up at him questioningly.

She could barely hear his deep voice as he whispered, "Show me." Her heart stopped for at least a few seconds.

Keeping her eyes locked on his face, she slid her left leg off the leather seat moving her knee away from herself. Watching his breath deepening, she ever so slowly raised her right leg, allowing it to slide upward finally draping her knee and heel across the back of the seat. She lazily placed her left arm over her head, her hand underneath. Her right hand grasped the fabric of her skirt and in an act of the most leisurely exquisite torture, raised it, allowing the fabric to slither up her leg until it was softly bunched up around her waist. For the coup de grâce, she tilted her pelvis upward and watched as he caught his breath, his eyes closing, his face softening with the ecstasy he felt traced across it.

Taking in the sight before him, he unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt and his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. Chloe smiled appreciatively. He leaned forward, sliding his hands under her hips, encircling her waist with his fingers. Starting at her right knee, he planted small, warm kisses all the way down her leg until he reached her groin, not quite to her outer lips. He began to suckle softly at first, then harder and harder until he finally heard what he had hoped to hear. That purring sound. Oh God, that purring nearly drove him insane.

Her legs began to quiver when he moved his mouth to her center and began to sup the juices he found there. He was forced to hold her thighs down firmly. That nearly did her in, but he stopped just short of her fall into the abyss. His right hand slid away, finding her swollen pearl with his thumb. With a sudden move he slid his body upward and rumbled into her ear, "Not a sound, Chloe, not a sound." House didn't give a damn if the kid driving could hear them, he knew she liked a level of control exerted over her, and, as he resumed his place, could immediately discern it had worked. With a talent borne of experience, he brought her to orgasm again and again and again. True to his orders, she never made a sound. He smiled. 'Damn, she's good', he thought.

While she was recovering, he sat back up and made himself comfortable in the plush leather seat. She watched as he unbuckled his belt and, unzipping, slid his trousers down just enough. House looked at her, "Come here, Chloe, I want you."

She wanted to crack wise and say something like, "I can see that!" But her vocal chords would not obey her. Instead, she lifted herself up and straddled him, careful to put her weight on her right leg. He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply and for a long time. She could taste her own musk on his mouth and lifted her hips to glide her wetness across his heavy heat. Her hands explored his chest and shoulders, pulling his shirt open, tracing her fingers through his hair. He seemed to like that as his head lolled back, exposing his neck. She took full advantage of that move, kissing and licking him here and there, trying not to miss a spot. Finally, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, guiding her back down, impaling her, filling her fully.

Chloe's hands slammed upward toward the roof of the vehicle and she noticed to her surprise that there were handles up there. She would laugh about it later, but now just grabbed them tight and began to pump her hips, pulling herself almost completely off of him, then sliding back down quickly. She could see this was having the desired affect. House's head had fallen back against the top of the seat again and his eyes were closed. The most beatific look was on his face. She stared at him in awe. He was in a wonderful place and that place was her.

He wrapped his arms around her and started thrusting upwards, meeting her each time. Faster and faster they traveled until he finally buried his face in her soft breasts and cried out as he exploded inside her, slamming deep and holding her hips in place until he was empty. She collapsed atop him as his hands traveled over her body, returning again and again to hold her tight against him. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her feverish head against his neck.

A quiet tap on the window told them they were nearing home. They languidly disentangled themselves and redressed in silence, both of them in deep thought. They snuggled together each just enjoying the warmth of the other.

House hated to admit it, but though he knew he would have sex with other women in this life, and enjoy it, Chloe would be the one he would seek out when he wanted to make love.

He'd had her figured all wrong.

**30**

Monday morning, House returned to his office. The ducklings were flush with their success and they noticed he seemed to be walking a little lighter.

"So, what'd I miss? Anything special?" He started unpacking his backpack.

They piled into his office and excitedly filled him in on everything that had happened, quite proud of themselves. "So how is this Sherry person?"

"Sheila," corrected Cameron. "She's much better!" Foreman gave House the run down on her neurological status and Chase filled him in on the success of the Valley Fever treatment. "She'll be here a few more days, but she'll be fine."

"Well, it seems you don't need me much anymore," he pretended to wipe away a tear, "you kids are growing up so fast."

"Cuddy and Wilson spent hours trying to track you down! We just finally gave up."

Cameron couldn't stand it anymore. "Where were you anyway?" Foreman and Chase just rolled their eyes and backed out of the office quietly. House watched them go and gave Cameron a rueful smile. "I was paying off a bet. Period."

Before Cameron could go on, House caught sight of 'her'. Storming down the hall at a fast pace with hell following with her in the form of Wilson. As Cuddy thundered into his office, House jumped up and twirled Cameron around, grabbing her from behind with a mock choke hold. "Don't come any closer! I've got an over-enthusiastic fellow here and I know how to use her!" He shouted. Foreman and Chase snickered and Cameron reacted by stomping House's foot, throwing off his arm.

House squealed like a girl, falling back into his desk chair. "Assault and battery, you are all witnesses!" Placing both palms on his desk, Cuddy leaned over and replied, "Assault doesn't apply when it's directed at an Ass!" House rubbed his foot, trying to look pitiful.

"This hospital was in a crisis situation and you could not be found, I demand to know why!" She was livid. "Where was your pager, where was your cell phone?" She was not going to let this go.

House looked at Wilson and then at Cameron, then focused on Cuddy. "First of all, I was on a vacation of sorts – fully sanctioned by you, I might add. Had I been in Bora Bora, my pager and cell phone would have been useless to you anyway. As it was, I was eating out my new best friend and she made it plain that she did not wish to be disturbed." He paused, tilting his head, "Although a vibrating pager might have come in handy." He shook off that thought, for now. "Anyway, if I understand correctly, the case was solved and the crisis overcome without me, so why all the histrionics? Oh, and by the way, the twins look lovely today."

Wilson responded as only Wilson could, a mixture of shock, awe and 'we have to talk' curiosity passing across his face. Cameron flushed and left the office as quickly as she could.

"I don't give a furry rat's ass about your sex life, you have an obligation to this hospital! I'm going to say this only once. You are to make yourself available at all times! If, for some odd, and I stress odd, reason your pager or cell phone aren't functioning, I want to know where we can locate you. Do you understand me?" Cuddy really meant it this time.

House rose and in doing so, forced Cuddy to back up. "You know, Cuddles, you're right. I apologize. From now on, you'll always know how to reach me."

With his eyebrows raised and an almost-smile on his face, he held out his hand, "Okay?" Everybody knew this was a trap, but what could Cuddy do but accept?

She shook his hand. "Deal." She left the office, throwing him one last look over her shoulder, confusion on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**31**

Getting sunburnt is one thing. Getting drunker than Cooter Brown is another. But, for heaven's sake, don't get sunburnt and drunk simultaneously. It hurts. Badly.

Chloe lay in a cool oat meal bath with an ice pack on her head wondering what in the hell she'd done yesterday. The whole thing was a large, ugly blur. She could remember the Long Island Teas and the cute butt of her waiter. She remembered people-watching, especially all those lovely young men climbing around in the rigging.

Damn! She had fully expected to be sexually harassing 18-25 year olds for 5 days and 4 nights and here she was, practically unable to move on the first day.

There was a soft tap at her door. Not wanting to get out of the tub, Chloe just yelled out, "Who is it?"

A very pleasant voice responded, "It's the ship's nurse, Ms. Marzhal, may I come in?"

What the hell, "Sure, come on in." Chloe slid under the murky water with just her head and knees sticking out, like a little turtle.

The nurse, who introduced herself as Emily Anderson, entered and found Chloe in the bath, a concerned and sympathetic look on her face. She was dressed in what appeared to be a British nurses uniform, complete with the little watch pin.

"Let me guess, you see a lot of this, right?" Chloe moaned.

"I'm afraid so, miss." Emily had a light Irish lilt to her voice which was, indeed, pleasant.

"Any sure fire cures?"

"Well, you've already chosen wisely with the cool oat meal bath. Are you allergic to aspirin? It's usually the first thing I offer."

Chloe was way ahead of her. "Already took a couple. What I really need is a bathtub full of moisturizer or a spritzer of lidocaine. Don't know if I'll even be able to dress for dinner. Do they have a nudist version?"

The nurse chuckled. "In point of fact, I do have a bottle of lotion with a touch of lidocaine in it just for these circumstances. Might I suggest, if you do still wish to attend dinner, your lightest frock? And perhaps miss might avoid alcohol tonight?"

Chloe smiled to herself, thinking this woman actually reminded her of Dr. Chase. "Sounds like a plan. If I may impose, would you mind applying some of that lotion to my back, I should be able to reach everywhere else."

"Not at all miss, I'll step out for a moment."

Chloe hauled herself out of the bathtub and very gingerly dabbed herself dry. Wrapping the towel around her, she stepped out into her room where the nurse was waiting with the bottle. Feeling a little self-conscious, Chloe asked to read the bottle label. "I had a heart attack a little over a year ago. I'd just like to make sure there's not too much lidocaine in here. Wouldn't want to put myself into complete heart block or anything."

Emily nodded her head and handed her the bottle. "Perhaps if I apply some to your back only, so you can see how it will affect you? That might be safest."

Chloe agreed and sat on the vanity chair. Emily applied a pair of gloves and very gently applied the lotion. She had a light touch and was very considerate. It felt wonderful, the lotion just slid on smoothly and the burn disappeared within a few minutes.

On her way out, Emily handed Chloe a pamphlet on sunburn with the usual tips: maintain hydration, avoid alcohol, dress lightly, but avoid becoming chilled, that kind of thing. Chloe thanked her then tried to decide if she really wanted to go to dinner. Her back really did feel better. She applied a little more of the lotion to her nose and her shoulders, the two places it hurt the most, then rummaged around in her clothing. She chose her softest thong, the one that didn't pinch and a pretty little green floral dress, what Emily called a frock. No bra, but this dress wasn't too 'flashy'. Sliding into her sandals, and grabbing a very light shawl, she promised herself she would just eat, chat and leave. Chloe headed out to the dining room.

It was a lovely room, very much what she expected. Wood paneling and flooring, acoustic ceiling and recessed lighting. The tables were spaced around a dance floor and a stage where the musicians were already performing soft, easy-listening type music. Everyone had an assigned table and hers was #12, near the back of the room, but within good view of the stage. There were already two people at her table who appeared to be a couple. They barely noticed her approaching the table. She smiled, must be honeymooners. The waiter was at her side almost before her bottom had hit the chair. She ordered an iced tea with lemon and listened to the piano player. However, she decided that the bass player was her favorite. She was the tiniest woman, man-handling that huge instrument, but she was a pro. She handled that bass like it was a violin. Chloe wondered how boring a job like that must be, playing the same sappy tunes over and over again to drunken tourists like her.

Her table filled up and people started introducing themselves. She was right about the couple. Honeymooners from Florida. To Chloe's right was a real estate agent from Idaho and to her left a masseur from Ohio. Across the table was a high-maintenance woman who called herself a publishing editor, but looked more to Chloe like a high-priced hooker. Chloe took everyone at their word, however, not wanting to psychoanalyze anyone. Two more people joined the table and it was full: a very jolly receptionist from Georgia and a tall, regal-looking gentleman who had the most beautiful head of white hair she'd ever seen. He reminded her of Cesar Romero. Very polished.

Everyone seemed to want to talk about Chloe's sunburn and offer advice. She was polite and took it all in, saying things like, "This is what not to do on your first day aboard ship," and trying to laugh without cracking her face. They ordered their food and resumed chatting. The jolly receptionist's name was Judith and by the time the evening was over everyone knew her entire life story. She seemed good-natured enough, just chatty. The editor said little, scowling at the food every so often and commenting on the wine selection. The masseur, Jonathan, was very shy and said little. The real estate agent, of course, was selling through the entire dinner.

Once food was cleared away, it was Cesar Romero who was the first one to ask her to dance. The band was playing a nice waltz and she agreed,

"Dance, but no touch," she said, facetiously.

He bowed to her and took her hand. Turns out he was a very interesting gentleman. He had retired about ten years ago and was in pursuit of his life-long dream, traveling around the world in small bits and pieces. She couldn't get the feeling out of her head, though, that his real hobby was as an 'escort'. She started wondering how many 'pros' were actually on board. Then she started wondering how many people might think she was a pro. She was alone, after all. Almost everyone else on board was a couple.

Upon returning to their table, Cesar, whose real name was David, kissed her hand and helped her into her seat. But she wasn't there long. Chloe got a wild hair and decided to ask Jonathan to dance. He was shocked, but too polite to refuse. Jonathan proved to be a very good dancer. And gay. His parents back home in Hamilton, Ohio had encouraged him to get out and see a bit of the world after the death of his long time partner, Edward. Theirs was a long and sympathetic conversation. He was a very sensitive man, the poetry-writing type and Chloe liked him.

All too soon, Chloe felt a little chill and decided not to push her luck any further. She excused herself from the table and to her surprise, it was Jonathan who asked to escort her back to her room. That was acceptable, she thought. Another surprise was the kiss on the cheek he gave her when they got to her room.

"I just wanted to thank you for talking with me, you've been a great help. You have kind eyes." She smiled at that and bid him goodnight.

When she entered her room, she was shocked to find that someone had rifled through it, obviously looking for valuables. Thank God she wasn't stupid enough to bring anything she couldn't carry in her handbag. Upon reporting the incident to ship's security, she was informed that the ship's nurse was, in fact, a male named Arnold. Chloe grabbed the lotion and stuck it away in her luggage, surprised she hadn't been poisoned or raped. 'What a dope I am!' The captain and head of security were very apologetic, trying desperately to avoid a scandal or a lawsuit. They even contacted the cruise company who offered her ½ off her fare in the form of a refund. She hadn't been hurt, nothing had been stolen. She took the money.

From then on the trip was ruined. Chloe kept her eye out for 'Emily', but never saw her again. It was hard to believe that a whole person could just disappear in the middle of the Caribbean. She kept to herself and just spent her time people-watching, waiting to get back home.

**32**

"You were right."

Wilson stopped dead in his tracks. Three words he never thought he'd ever hear from House. "I was right about… what?"

They were headed to lunch in the cafeteria after the Cuddy blow up in his office that morning. House waited for him to catch up. "You were right about Chloe. She's not interested in owning me body and soul… or anyone else, for that matter." He lifted his face in superiority, "She likes me."

"Nobody likes you." Wilson was incredulous, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You like me." House whined.

Wilson pondered. "That's different. I'm a guy."

He and House had entered the cafeteria. House replied rather loudly, "You're gay? Why doesn't anyone ever tell me these things?"

Wilson stopped for a minute, then caught up with House again. "A guy, you idiot, not gay! What I'm saying is that women don't 'like' you. They want to change you, nurture you, heal you, bring you back to some semblance of humanity."

House snorted, "Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen!"

"I'm just telling you what she told me. She likes me, just as I am." House continued with his superior facial expression.

Wilson repeated the oft spoken mantra, "She lied. Everybody lies."

"Well, if she lied, she had an interesting method of convincing me."

Wilson was silent. They collected their food and took it to a nearby table. House looked at Wilson.

"You knew about the sleeping pill scam, didn't you? You let me stew for a week. Was it good for you?"

Wilson smiled. "You've got to admit, she's got moxie."

"She's got a brass set is what she's got. I've dealt with her lie, I'm talking about yours." House's stare was piercing.

"I did not lie. I simply didn't tell what I knew. That's not a lie. You chose not to discuss it with me… because… because you were embarrassed… you were embarrassed because you got sucker punched by a girl!" Wilson was laughing out loud now. "And, yes, it was refreshing to see someone get one over on you." Wilson continued to chuckle. House stuck his tongue out at him.

"So what did you two do last week? Come on, details, man!"

House sighed, "Well, she did take the time to show me that life isn't so miserable all the time."

Wilson thought about this for a second, "Wait, _'isn't so miserable'_? Don't you always say _'suck'_?"

House grinned, "Yeah, there was a lot of that, too."

**33**

Whatever else it might be, New Jersey was home. Chloe was never so happy to see that old building as when she came back to work. Although she could tell you every problem the hospital had and knew where a lot of the bodies were buried, Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was home, too.

All her friends were glad she was back, commented on her sunburn, speculated on her 'activities' during the cruise and were horrified to learn the truth. They were glad she was back and safe and so was she.

Her second night back at work, Chloe wandered around the hospital during a much needed break from pus, pain and disease. She was surprised to see that the lights were burning in the diagnostics 'war room'. She peeked through the vertical blinds and could see the ducklings struggling with a file. "Dr. Foreman, a word, please?" Chloe pulled Foreman out of the huddle to ask him a favor.

She related the details of her cruise experience and handed him the bottle of lotion. "Would you be able to test this to see what's in it?" His eyes got wide and he agreed readily, although he wondered why she wasn't going through the police for this kind of thing.

She hung her head for a minute, then spoke, "I'd like to know the truth. I think I can get that from you. If I dodged a bullet, I'd like to keep it to myself. Going through the police just gets me notoriety, I don't want that."

He nodded his head. "Okay, I'll let you know." She thanked him and went on her way.

"What did the fair Cruiseling want?" House asked out loud from the darkness of his office.

"Anonymity." Was the only response he could get from Foreman.

'Why didn't she come to me?' House's brain started humming. "I'm going to take a break. Page me if you figure anything out." He limped out of his office into the hallway.

Cameron took off her glasses and rubbed her nose. "Where is he going at this time of night? For crying out loud, we're all grappling with this patient!"

Chase didn't look up, "He's found a more interesting puzzle."

Chloe was at the far end of the hall and, therefore, missed the warning signs. She didn't realize he was on the floor until she saw the other nurses scurrying for the safety of somewhere else.

"How was your trip, Crusty? We all missed you around here."

She just smiled at him. "Gregory, I should have known. Did you and Jimmy have a nice talk about me while I was gone?"

House gave her a mock-horrified look.

She held up her hand, "Don't bother denying it, Gregory. Jimmy can't keep a secret to save his life. Why do you think I stay in good with the oncology nurses? My grapevine is nearly as good as yours. And to answer your question, I'm glad to be home."

He gave her a 'that wasn't an answer' look, "What was all that about with Foreman? What did you give him?"

Chloe approached him slowly, getting very close and whispering in his ear seductively, "Nunya." He had come very near to wrapping his arms around her until he heard that word.

"Nunya? What… ?"

"Nunya bizness," she winked and walked away.

As he was leaving the floor, he noticed that the white board had been taken down. He smiled to himself. Time to tap into the grapevine.

**34**

Foreman made inquiries and found that Chloe wasn't scheduled to work the next two nights. Good, he might be able to talk to her today. Hopefully, he wouldn't wake her. He had heard about the handgun. He picked up the phone and called her number which she had given him. Her voice was a little groggy, but she didn't sound dangerous.

"Chloe, it's Dr. Foreman, Eric." He began.

"Oh, yes, Dr. Foreman, thank you for calling."

He was polite, "I didn't wake you did I?"

"Yes, but that's okay, I don't have to work tonight. Have you found something?"

"Yes, Chloe, I'd like to come over and discuss it with you."

She paused, "I could come in if it would be better for you."

There was another pause at the end of the line. "Listen, can you meet me at the coffee shop around the corner from the hospital? This is something better discussed in some sort of privacy."

That aroused her curiosity. "Sure, twenty minutes?"

"That'll be fine. Oh, and Chloe, I assume you don't want this going beyond us?"

Chloe smiled. "Yes, Dr. Foreman, I'd like it to stay between us."

House stood to the side, behind a column, listening to the conversation. According to his grapevine inquiries, he had found out about the close call Chloe had had aboard the Windjammer. He was not happy and had this bothersome sensation that the end of the cruise was not the end of the problem.

Chloe jumped out of bed and showered, dressed and hurried out the door. Twenty minutes later she was at the coffee shop. She loved the smell of the place, but couldn't partake of the offerings. Coffee did not agree with her, no matter what it's variation.

Entering the coffee shop, the first person she saw was House. Oh, for crying out loud. He was looking at her oddly. She didn't bother with pretense. "Gregory, do I have a locator beacon stuck up my ass or something that you always know where I am?"

He laughed heartily at that. "Well, I do take a particular interest in your ass, it's very special to me."

Chloe smiled and shook her head. "This doesn't really concern you, Gregory, it's nothing that you need to be worrying about."

Dr. Foreman entered the coffee shop and immediately spotted House and Chloe and sighed, he didn't really want to discuss this in House's present. However, he approached them and greeted them both. "Shall we get a booth?" offered Chloe, knowing House wasn't going to be denied. They all slid into a booth and ordered. The waitress looked at Chloe funny when she ordered Chai Tea Latte. Only snobs ordered those.

"Chloe, are you sure?" He nodded at House.

"Go ahead, Dr. Foreman, I can't seem to keep him out of my business anyway." She shrugged.

"Okay, well the lotion is at base your run of the mill stuff: lanolin, shea butter, mineral oil, aloe. There is 1 lidocaine in it as well. However… "

House got impatient. "Get to the point, Foreman!"

Chloe slapped his right thigh hard, deliberately choosing the location to make a point. He doubled over and cursed something under his breath. He looked at her with true pain in his eyes. "That hurt!"

She knew it had and at the same time, wanted to make him understand that he wasn't in control here. "Then shut up." As Foreman continued, she slid her had across his thigh, gently stroking, trying to ease the damage she'd done. House downed a couple Vicodin.

"Anyway," continued Foreman, "there is something else in the lotion. Something that is concerning. I found a large, no, a huge amount of fentanyl. It was appears you were lucky you didn't apply any more than you did. Were you experiencing any side affects after the lotion was applied?"

House broke in, "Where exactly was the lotion applied?"

Chloe thought for a moment. "Well, I was more worried about the lidocaine, so I let her apply it to my upper back and then I put a little more on the tops of my shoulders and a tiny bit on my nose."

Foreman thought for a minute. "So, about 10-12 of your total body surface area."

House chimed in, "And no side effects, you didn't get sleepy or high?"

Chloe thought hard, "No, I went to dinner. I felt relaxed, danced with a couple of guys and then left." She paused, "Even after the security guys left, though, I did sleep awfully well, which I thought was odd at the time, but now…" Her voice trailed off.

"There was nothing else in the lotion I need to know about?" She asked Foreman.

"No, Chloe, it seems you did dodge a bullet and I'm glad you did. Listen, I've got to get back. I'll see you later, House." Foreman rose to go and Chloe caught his hand in hers.

"Thank you Eric, may I call you Eric?"

Foreman smiled, "You're welcome and of course you may call me Eric."

Chloe repeated, squeezing his hand, "Thank you."

Foreman didn't realize until he left the shop that Chloe had slipped a note into his hand. "There is a particularly lovely young nurse who works on the third floor day shift. Her name is Mariq and she's from Nigeria. She's new to the states and has few friends. Just thought you'd like to know. Chloe." Foreman shook his head at her attempts at matchmaking, but smiled anyway. He'd seen Mariq himself… and she _was_ lovely.

**35**

"Stop looking at me like I'm the star of 'The Perils of Pauline'! It was just a botched robbery attempt, happens all the time on those cruise ships." Chloe was a bit stirred, but not shaken.

"You're either blissfully ignorant or in severe denial." He was rubbing his own thigh now. "Damn, Chloe, that hurt," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, Gregory, really I am. You've got to understand you can push your way into my life only so far before I start pushing back. I'm just as anti-social as you are. Even though I may treat others a little more kindly than you do, it doesn't mean I want to spend my idle hours with the majority of them." She shook her head sadly.

"When I was younger, I used to go around everywhere by myself, enjoying whatever, wherever, whenever. Now, it seems, that time is past. I'm to the point where I require a companion, if not a chaperone. This getting older crap is for the birds. I don't like losing my independence like this!" She slapped the table with the palm of her hand, instantly regretting the move as it stung like hell.

House was studying her again.

"Oh, stop that! I'm allowed to feel sorry for myself once a decade! Scoot out, I need to go home." He didn't move.

"Well?" She demanded. She was trying to decipher the look on his face… a shot in the dark on the best of days. Tilting her head to one side she took that shot. "You will not be coming to my rescue every time I do something stupid, Dr. House. Those are the rules."

He smiled. "There are no rules, Chloe. Let me take you home."

She shook her head. "No, I drove here on my own, I can get myself back."

He was going to push her to say it, she could see it coming. He just sat there like a Cheshire cat. "Look, Greg, I'm feeling a tad vulnerable right now and as much as I might like you, I refuse to allow myself to become emotionally attached to you. I don't want to rely on you for anything more than a damn fine romp in the sack. Now, please move so I can leave." There, it's what he wanted to hear, she'd said it. Now, would he buy it? Of course he didn't, but he had it to hold over her head if needed. And he would need it soon enough.

House finally removed himself from the booth and waited until Chloe was standing in front of him, her back to him, facing the exit. He touched her arm and dipped his head to the crook of her neck, barely brushing her skin.

She mumbled an expletive under her breath, that is, after she caught it. "Alright, you insufferable rake, follow me home."

Later that evening, House lounged on his couch, slowly swirling the smoky liquid in his glass, thinking about Chloe. She'd captured his imagination. That little stunt she pulled awhile ago, bringing herself to climax against his damnably scarred leg would be forever seared in his brain. He'd tried vociferously to prevent her, but she was determined. So he gave in to her and swallowed a sob, watching her fearlessness, hating his own weakness. He didn't want to lose her respect or affection. That was enough of a shock in itself and he realized the only way to do that was to back away. Slowly. She was trying to tell him the same thing. She got it, she would get it, she would understand.

They hadn't seen each other in a couple of months. By pure accident, Chloe found out why. Joining a group of friends at a local bar, she spotted House in a corner booth. At first she thought he was alone, which is what she would have expected. Until the high-pitched giggling reached her ears. The absolutely stunning blonde rose from the booth, headed for the powder room. Wow, what a looker. Damn near as tall as House with legs that went all the way up and hair to die for. She watched as he gazed at the blonde's assets. Not a pro, she thought, he didn't take his hookers out in public. Her friends filled her in on the details, apologizing for not saying anything sooner. She let them. It didn't really matter. The couple left the bar. She was pretty sure he never saw her.

It was one of those 60-40 things. 60 relief and 40 angst. Or was it the other way 'round?

He'd seen her. It was more like 80-20. Or was it the other way 'round?

_Suddenly I see  
This is what I want to be  
Suddenly I see  
Why the hell it means so much to me_

The End (for now)


End file.
